Divine Intervention
by RubberChick'n
Summary: Continuation. Lucifer and the fallen angels use the Angel War as the springboard for a new conflict with Heaven. Chapter 2 is up: When the UN attacks Tokyo-3, one thing goes wrong after another for all involved.
1. Prologue: Councils

Disclaimer:  All characters, places, concepts, and events from _Neon Genesis Evangelion_ are the property of Gainax, not me.  I'm making no profit whatsoever from writing this, and will remove this story from the Internet if, for some strange reason, Gainax deems it necessary.  

Divine Intervention

 An Evangelion continuation by Rubberchicken (deathbylatex@hotmail.com)

Prologue:  Councils

In a darkened chamber that was not really there, a virtual realm whose existence was known only to a select handful of individuals, the twelve most powerful men on Earth would orchestrate the ultimate fruition of their plans.

Keel Lorenz, the man known within the council as SEELE-01, was waiting for the others when they arrived, as always.  His virtual avatar, the gray monolith bearing his designation, stood alone in the blackness.  

Then, with a low hum, the other members of the council arrived.  One by one, Keel's eleven associates materialized.  The twelve monoliths stood in a circle, identical but for the numbers engraved on their faces.  They stood as equals within their realm.

It was nothing more than a facade, a show, Keel knew.  Just as the room in which they met was an electronic construct, completely without meaning outside of the computers that accessed it, many of the illusions that veiled the committee were meaningless as well.  The secrecy and equality that always characterized these meetings existed in name only.  The concrete monoliths hid the identities of the men they represented, but the anonymity only went so far.  Although those outside of the Instrumentality Committee had never met many of the other members and so knew nothing about them, Keel's eleven fellows, every one, knew his name, his face, and his voice.  

Some of them believed themselves to be secure in their own anonymity.  Some of them were fools.  

They blithely went on believing in their security, unmindful of the fact that, while they knew Keel, he knew them as well.  He knew their nations of origin, their occupations, their personal histories… Keel knew everything.  _He_ controlled the committee.  A recalcitrant "lesser" member of the group could always be eliminated, could be replaced with another who would be more compliant.  Keel, on the other hand, was the cornerstone upon which their empire had been built; without him, the ensuing infighting would tear the council apart as members jockeyed to fill the void in the power structure.  And when that happened, they would find themselves unable to fulfill their purpose.  Their "equality" was an illusion.  Nothing more.

Soon, however, none of that would matter.  Everything had fallen into place.  They met here today, not for mistrust and paranoia, but for glory and rapture.

"The Seventeenth has fallen," Keel began.  "EVA-01 performed as expected and the Fifth Child was destroyed."

"It is fortunate that the Seventeenth chose to die rather than struggle," SEELE-05 responded, the electronically-disguised voice carrying a hint of controlled anger, "if he had actually reached Adam, our plan could easily have backfired.  We can control nothing if we are all killed."

"My source within NERV reports that Ikari had taken steps to prevent such an 'accident' long before.  Were any Angel actually to penetrate every level of security and reach the center of Terminal Dogma, he would be greeted, not with the First Angel, but with the Second.  The Angels can do nothing with Lilith; only Adam has the power to destroy us."  SEELE-10 sounded amused with his co-conspirator; one could almost imagine the man reclining unconcernedly in a padded chair, his feet on his desk, supremely confident that nothing could possibly upset his position.

SEELE-03 laughed bitterly.  "Perhaps we should thank Ikari for his foresight?"

SEELE-05 didn't catch the sarcasm.  "_Thank_ Ikari?  The man has lied to us, danced around us, disobeyed us at _every_ opportunity!  For the past year he has persisted in his control of NERV, despite repeated requests to turn the reins of the organization over to a more suitable commander.  He hid the appearance of the Eleventh Angel from us; not until Number Ten's nameless _agent_ found the information did we know anything of it… and by then the Fourteenth had already come and gone.  He has taken the Lance of Longinus and placed it beyond our reach, when he _knows_ of its importance to our scenario!  And now this…  You say that we should _thank_ Ikari for placing Lilith in Terminal Dogma, Number Three?  Perhaps you should instead ask yourself what he has done with _Adam?  What plans does Ikari have for the First Angel, now that the cycle has been completed?"_

"Calm yourself, Number Five," SEELE-02 admonished.  Angered, SEELE-05 began to speak again, but SEELE-02 quickly resumed.  "We know fully well what Ikari is planning.  He thinks to utilize himself, Adam, Lilith, and his pet nephilim… the First Child, I believe, Number Ten?"  An affirmative grunt issued from SEELE-10's monolith.  Satisfied, SEELE-02 continued.  "As I said, he plans to use his nephilim to place himself in control of the Third Impact.  When the reality of the human race itself can be reshaped at his whim, he hopes to be reunited with his lost wife."  Contempt fairly dripped from his voice.  "Ikari has no ambition beyond that.  Certainly, Number Five, your concerns are valid; we cannot allow one with goals as narrow as Ikari's to control Instrumentality."

"Certainly not," SEELE-12 agreed, "and something must be done to prevent him from proceeding."

"Something _will be done," Keel spoke up again.  _

He paused, waiting for one of the less-informed members, most likely SEELE-05 or 09, to demand to be told the details.  Instead, there was silence.  Keel allowed a tiny smile to cross his face, unseen by the other members of the Committee.  Perhaps they possessed more awareness of their situation than he had given them credit for; rather than argue with him, they chose to listen, accepting that his command of the situation far surpassed theirs.

"As I said, the Seventeenth has fallen.  While this does indeed leave Ikari in a position to proceed, we ourselves are given that same option.  As of two days ago, the EVA-05 Series is ready for launch.  All we need is for Number Two to give the United Nations and the JSSDF the appropriate incentive to act.  Our own version of the scenario can be executed at any time."

Keel allowed the visual disguise to disappear; the gray monolith and the words SEELE-01 SOUND ONLY faded away, revealing Keel for what he was: nothing more than an old man, his body failing in a dozen different ways, an army of medical machines the only barrier between his continued survival and the death that should have claimed him long ago.  Keel looked about the circle at his compatriots, sizing up each monolith in turn, visualizing what he knew about each of them.  He was the oldest among them, but he was well aware that most of the other committee members were slowly dying away as well.  Like Keel, they retained the will to live for a single promise.

"Soon, gentlemen," Keel spoke the words that they had waited years to hear, "soon our goals shall be realized – and we shall be as gods."  With that declaration, the twelve members of SEELE faded away.

Twenty seconds later, two of the images reappeared.  SEELE-10, too, had chosen to dispense with his disguise and now eyed Keel with an expression of wary curiosity.

"You truly believe, then," he asked, "that this will be the end?"

"The road has been long, but all roads must end somewhere."

SEELE-10 snorted.  "Telling me absolutely nothing, as always.  Very well.  If you still will not be forthright with me, _I at least shall make an effort to extend that small courtesy to __you."  Keel's face remained expressionless.  SEELE-10 watched him for a moment, looking for some response, before giving a final sigh.  "I have doubts."_

Keel raised an eyebrow.  "Doubts?"

"Yes, doubts.  Reservations.  Concerns.  Worries.  Loose ends that have not been tied up to my satisfaction."

"Continue."

"The Seventeenth has been defeated; of that there is no doubt.  All Angels predicted in the Dead Sea Scrolls either have come and gone… or are waiting around for the final act.  This I know as well as anyone.  But the Scrolls say nothing about what comes after."

"What do you need, Number Ten?"

"I don't know."  SEELE-10 sighed again.  "What comes next?  Instrumentality?  Destruction?  Another, as yet unnamed, wave of Angels?  Or do we all simply earn the right to spend another ten thousand years living on this miserable planet in the same wretched state as before?  I do not know.  And I do not like not knowing."

 It was Keel's turn to sigh.  "We have stood together thus far.  Does your resolve only start to waver now, at the last?"

Silence.  Then a final, resigned, "No."

Both men sat in silence for a moment.  When the quiet was broken, it was Keel who spoke.  "You said you had another concern?"

"Two more concerns."  SEELE-10 took a deep breath.  "My man in NERV-Japan.  When the JSSDF attacks, what will he do?  Allowing him to be slaughtered with the other NERV personnel would be a poor reward for his service thus far."

"Service?  He is a tool, nothing more."

"A tool does not know the motivation of the hand that wields it."

"You have _told him of us?"  _

"He knows enough to understand the consequences of his actions.  He desires this change more than anyone I have met outside of the Committee.  He will not betray us."

"Let us not take chances.  Tell him simply to remain within the Geofront and to wait for what comes.  The possible destruction of his body in the attack means nothing; once we have been made humanity's gods his _soul_ will know any joys you can reward him with.  Your other question?"

"NERV-USA in Massachusetts has nearly completed Evangelion Unit 06.  Although it is not at full operational capacity, it is capable of movement.  Perhaps…"

"The presence of one more Evangelion will make no difference," Keel cut in smoothly, "We have nine EVAs.  NERV possesses three.  Of their pilots, one is in no condition for action and another lacks any significant ability."

"But the remaining pilot is the Third Child.  Ikari's son has proven… surprisingly ferocious in the past."

"One human… against nine perfect machines.  You need only accept the facts as they stand, Number Ten.  Our triumph is inevitable.  Only Ikari refuses to see that."

SEELE-10 seemed to think it over for a minute, then relaxed visibly.  "Amen," he finally responded, before giving Keel a nod and fading away.

In a plane of existence far removed from our own, a realm as different from our own material existence as night is from day, the angelic host gathered to welcome its fifteen lost brothers back to their home.

A human observing this meeting might have described the occasion as a thousand thousand points of light swimming within a black void, weaving about one another in a strange, vaguely disturbing, yet somehow beautifully intricate dance.  

He might also have described it as a heavenly choir of voices that were not actually voices; some sounded like reedy wind instruments, some like brass trumpets, others like the sad melody of strings.  The sounds met and blended in the underlying silence, producing a perfect harmony that was greater as a whole than any of its individual parts.

Perhaps he would instead have described what could only be termed a riot of color.  "Riot" may not have been the proper word to use, for there was nothing chaotic about the way that the swirling colors, representing every hue of both the visible and invisible spectra, spiraled together upon the vast canvas that was their realm and formed a new color which… somehow… managed to retain the characteristics of every constituent tone at once.

Perhaps he would have attempted to use one of the above methods.  Perhaps not.  The realm in which the angels met was a place in which such physical modes of perception were misleading and, therefore, rather meaningless.  There were other places they could have chosen to congregate; indeed, some of them might have _preferred_ to manifest physically and greet their brothers face-to-face.  All, however, ultimately recognized the wisdom of their chosen method of reunion.

The angels existed less as beings than as concepts, as ideas.  Each represented an aspect of the creation their Lord had brought into being.  The Angels of Fire, of Music, of the Sea, of Redemption, of anything, were the embodiment of ideas that, while deceptively simple, symbolized a reality far too vast to comprehend on one level alone.  A blind man cannot appreciate the light that fire offers, for example, while a man with sight, yet lacking a sense of touch, cannot comprehend the warmth that it provides.  In the same way, forcing the angels into physical bodies would have restricted them, clouding their perception of themselves and of each other.  Here they possessed no senses that we would recognize; in spite of that, they perceived each other with a clarity that few humans could understand.

The swirling lights, the choir of voices, the swirling colors… the _presence_ of the angelic host had been steadily growing in intensity as it was joined by more and more of its members, as the angels were called away from other planes and responsibilities to join in the harmony.  They gathered both separately and together, as individual beings and as one whole.  

The collective voice of the Host reflected anticipation.

After an indeterminate period (for time flows like a river through the planes, and is, like all things in this place, misleading), the host ceased its activity, sensing the arrival of a new presence.  Fifteen new lights, new voices, new colors, had arrived.  For the moment, they remained separate from their fellows – as if held back by an imperceptible wall.

_We return, the newcomers chorused._

_You return, came the Host's response.  __We welcome you back, brothers._

_It will be good to feel the Presence once again._

_Indeed.  Your mission?  The Host's consciousness already understood the answer that was coming; other angels had been to Earth and seen the developing situation there.  The Angels that had ravaged Tokyo-3 had never been the only divine beings on the planet; they had simply been the only ones to attract notice._

_It is done.  The Lilim have been tested.  They have not been found lacking.  A sense of satisfaction crept from the newcomers into the host as the barrier separating them began to weaken._

_It is good.  The loss of the Lilim would be unfortunate.  The satisfaction was now mirrored on both sides of the barrier as it continued to erode._

Something shifted within the fifteen.  One angelic soul disassociated itself from the mass, forcing up another barrier between itself and its fellows. _The loss of the Lilim has been averted, true.  But there has still been loss.  Brothers, we have sown pain and sorrow among them.  Is this all good?  Sadness washed outward from this new voice, sending ripples through the harmony of the remaining fourteen._

The returning angels reflected together upon what they had done while on the tiny planet of the Lilim.  The sadness sprung forth anew; all remembered the suffering and anguish that had come in their wake.  They remembered the children crushed beneath collapsing buildings.  They remembered the pain of the dying.  They remembered the sound of a boy's screams as a machine beyond his control butchered his best friend.  They remembered the sobs of a girl as her world, constructed to shelter her from the darkness of her past, dissolved around her.  They remembered, with a faint sense of reverence, another girl finally beginning to come to grips with who she was… and then making the ultimate sacrifice for another, knowing that the hard-earned knowledge would be lost.  

They did not remember being clutched in the fist of the giant Lilith-spawned Evangelion.  They did not remember speaking with soothing tones, explaining to another the reasons to act against his will and his nature; they did not remember telling Shinji Ikari why he needed to kill the only person who had ever shown him unconditional love.  They did not remember explaining why, in order to save a world of those who seemed unworthy of salvation, the one most deserving of it had to die.  

The dissenting voice, Tabris, the Angel of Free Will, withheld that memory, sheltering it.  Tabris was not certain why he held the memory so close.  Was he trying to protect his brothers, to spare them the knowledge of his actions?  Or was he desperately clinging to _his memory, the last reminder of what _he_ had done?  Regardless, he held the memory deep within his soul, and the others remained oblivious to its existence.  _

The fourteen remaining newcomers reflected upon their deeds with sadness.  Whatever regret they may have felt, however, was banished by something stronger, something that formed the very core of their existence.  

Faith.

It was true, they had committed terrible deeds while upon Earth.  Many had died, and many had suffered.  But it was all for the best.  Their mission had been handed down to them by the highest power they knew, the One who they loved above all else.  They knew that His work was infallible and His love encompassed all, especially those who had lost their lives.  By surviving the ordeal of the Angel War, the Lilim had been forced to struggle, and emerging from struggle always made one stronger.  Their work was complete.  

It was not in an angel's nature to question its Creator.

With this final acknowledgement, the barriers restraining the fourteen dissolved.  In a moment, they became one with the Host; once again, they knew and were known in complete detail by their brothers.

One voice remained separate.  Tabris reflected on what he had learned.  At the last, he had chosen death rather than the completion of his mission.  The Lilim, he knew, were worthy of love, worthy of salvation… worthy of the chance to make their own path into the future.  The physical shell Tabris had worn had been destroyed.  Tabris had hoped to give Shinji - to give _all_ those who were worthy - a chance to choose their road.

_Tabris, the host entreated, _brother, return to us.__

But it was not to be, Tabris knew.  Shinji would never have the chance to make his choice.  The Throne of Souls, Tabris' earthly progenitors, already sought to steer the course of mankind's future.  Shinji's own father was set to conclude what he believed to be a labor of love.  

_But it is not right, he called, his voice cutting crisscrossing slashes across the harmony of the angels.  _It cannot proceed.  Not before they all are able to understand.__

_There is work to be done, the Host retorted.  _Your place is here.__

Before Tabris could give another response, a new presence converged with them, enveloping the entire plane.  The angelic consciousness went silent with instant recognition of the One who had just arrived.  

When He communed with them, it was as if the empty blackness between the lights, the few dissonant notes of the harmony, and the jagged lines between colors had been smoothed over and made perfect.  Awe rippled through the gathered masses as they experienced the Divine Presence.

The Presence seemed to remain forever, but at the same time it may have come and gone too quickly to be noticed.  Regardless, during that time, the angels were told all they needed to know.  

Tabris missed much of what He told the host, or simply wasn't listening; he wasn't entirely certain.  One part remained imprinted on his soul, however:  The work on Earth had been done well, and in accordance with His wishes.  The returning angels now had their places; He trusted them to know what those places were.

An unpleasant sensation flooded Tabris as his Creator left the plane.  He was experiencing a crisis.  One that he would need time, preferably alone, to think about.  

_I must postpone my return, brothers.  Farewell, until next we meet._

With those words, the presence of the angel called Tabris faded away, traveling to another part of reality, leaving the voices of his fellows far behind.

In a material realm, a place that few humans would recognize save those who had caught glimpses during their most fevered and vivid dreams, a third group also held a meeting at this time.

By human standards the place had very little to recommend it.  The landscape was of no real use for any practical purpose.  The ground was hard and rocky, and therefore no use for farming; the rock was composed of cracked, jagged, uneven slabs, which rendered it unusable in any other endeavor.  Rocky pillars, most likely stalagmites that had formed over many eons of undisturbed growth, rose here and there from the shale-like surface and vanished into the gloom above.  No sunlight or starlight reached this realm, but if it was a subterranean cave it had to have been vast; the ceiling and walls, if they existed, were too far away to be seen.  The reddish glow that _was present emanated from fiery rivers and lakes of lava, part of a massive system of volcanic tubes that was further evidenced by the hissing geysers of steam, the bubbling pits of mud, and the ragged fissures that disgorged sulfurous gases into the air.  The air itself, consequently, was hot and close, filled with particles and chemicals that would scour human lungs raw with a single breath.  Nobody in his or her right mind would choose to take residence here._

And yet the realm _was inhabited._

The inhabitants, too, found little to appreciate about the place.  This plane made the worst places on Earth seem like heaven, and its current residents had been forced here from a plane that would make the Earth's best places seem like hell by comparison.  There was nothing aesthetically or practically pleasing about the place.

The beings that resided here could have changed that; they could have reshaped the landscape, made it beautiful and productive.  They could have left; they could have moved to another realm, a different plane, somewhere, _anywhere but here.  They possessed the power to do either of these things.  And yet they remained.  _

Upon their arrival ten billion years past, they had agreed that this place truly was Hell.  At the same time, though, they had made another decision: this place was also their home.  

Fully capable of leaving at any time or creating another Paradise, they did neither.  The landscape remained as awful and nightmarish now as it had been on the day they had arrived, a painful reminder of what had happened, of where they had begun and where they had come.

The glittering vastness of Pandemonium reclined atop a plateau, the cave's only redeeming feature, the only beauty in Hell.  

The interior design of the palace shifted periodically with the whims of its denizens, from the ancient to the modern, the conservative to the bizarre.  The meeting took place in a simple, unremarkable conference room.  Whitewashed walls, fluorescent lighting, padded swivel-chairs and the soft hum of air conditioning could lead one to suggest that this was not Hell at all, but an office building somewhere in Manhattan or Chicago.

The double doors swung open and the meeting's participants gradually filed in.  Some came alone, walking in silence.  Others came in twos and threes, taking seats together around the mahogany table and carrying on lively conversations about topics ranging from the dismal performance of the Milwaukee Brewers to the formation of a black hole near the center of the universe.  One, dressed in a business suit that was at least two sizes too small, whistled annoyingly to himself with his feet on the table.  Another, wearing denim jeans and a "We Want Jack Daniels" T-shirt, reclined in his seat and bounced a Superball against the ceiling.  Still another, naked save for a loincloth, sat cross-legged on the floor near the exit and perused a copy of Stephen Hawking's _A Brief History of Time_.  

After everybody had arrived, the doors closed of their own volition with a resounding _thud that echoed unnaturally within the low-ceilinged chamber.  The last man to enter was strikingly handsome, with flawless skin, golden hair, and azure eyes that took in all those present.  He walked deliberately around the room to the opposite end of the table.  Although the other seats had long since been filled and there were beings either seated on the floor or standing, the seat to which this last arrival strode was empty.  He ignored it, pushing it to one side with his foot.  One of the others, an eight-year-old girl with wide, innocent green eyes, ran to pull it away and give him room.  He offered a brief nod of recognition, then cleared his throat to address the others._

"It's been… quite some time… since last we met in this manner."

An attractive woman with raven hair gave a soft, amused laugh, raising her eyebrows.  "'Quite some time'?  Maybe by _mortal_ standards, Star of the Morning."

The Morningstar stared at her for a moment, then shook his head.  "Perhaps not, but considering the business we discussed last time, I'd think we would all be only to eager to put that time behind us."  There were murmurs and nods of agreement all around; the man allowed them to continue for a moment before raising a hand for quiet.  "Still, that's not important.  We're here to discuss the events of the present, not the past."

"You speak of the situation the Lilim find themselves in."  This from a man immaculately dressed in a tailored Armani suit with mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes.  He had evidently found the need to bring refreshment with him, and had summoned a faceless, bronze-skinned humanoid to pour Chateauneuf du Pape into a crystal glass, from which the man sipped delicately.  

"Indeed.  As most of you already know, Tabris was defeated less than a day ago.  He and the other fourteen have since returned to the Host.  The cycle has been completed."  The man quirked an eyebrow as he spoke.  "The angels have carried out His plan.  But I, for one, see no change."

A spiky-haired teenager wearing a leather jacket and pants spoke up.  "I always kinda wondered about that.  I mean, what's He thinking?  Really, though… He wins, everybody dies for no apparent reason; He loses, nothing changes.  It makes no sense, y'know?"

Amusement entered the Morningstar's voice now, as though he was enjoying knowledge of a secret and merely waited for the right moment to share it.  "It is my belief that he was hoping to… _steer_ humanity's actions.  I'm sure all of you are aware of the possible uses the Lilim could put their Mother and Father to if they tried."  Without waiting to see if the others followed, he continued.  "The purpose of this strange little exercise has been to _push_ humanity into making a decision on its future.  The Lilim stand at a crossroads. 

"The problem," he added, "is that the signpost has fallen and they have no real idea where any of the roads ultimately lead.  There are those who would proceed blindly forward, without understand their actions.  You are all familiar with the Throne of Souls, yes?"  

This last question met with angry muttering.  A heavily scarred and tattooed man with substantial body piercing stood up.  "I think I can see where this is going," he growled.  "The Throne's been preparing for a while, right?  From what I've seen of all this, they're almost ready to put this _plan_ of theirs into action."  The Morningstar nodded; emboldened, the new speaker began to walk around the table, gesturing as he spoke.  "They're planning to set themselves up as gods."

"Indeed.  It's similar to the procedure another of the Lilim wishes to enact, although his version has somewhat less malignant intentions."

"Right.  But I've been hanging around Earth lately, and from what I can see, the Throne is almost ready to act; at the same time, the Evangelions, the cloned angels the Lilim fight with, are in no condition to defend themselves.  So their plan is going to succeed.

"Now I'm pretty sure I've got this straight."  He reached his chair again and sat down heavily.  "But maybe you should finish."

The blond man sighed.  "Very well.  As you say, SEELE is almost assured a victory in the near future; humanity will become its playthings.  The situation seems eerily familiar, I'm sure many of you will agree; free will, the ability to choose one's own path… these things will be _lost_ to the Lilim.  And _He_," he hissed, pointing a finger upward, "seems unconcerned with this… _again_.  He's going to let the Throne do as it pleases.  Perhaps it's his way of reasserting control…maybe he thinks humanity would _choose _to be dominated."

"In that case, He hasn't learned much, has He?  Are you sure He doesn't have an ace up His sleeve?" a shaven-headed black man asked without looking up.

"I don't know.  I confess that openly. I don't."

"But you're not going to stop, are you?"  The black man stood now and met the gaze of the Morningstar.  "You're going to go ahead with this."

The other gave him an injured look.  "Ahead with _what_, old friend?"

"Don't be ridiculous.  You have a plan of your own.  Why else would you call this meeting?  You need to ask us to help you."  He put his hands on the table and leaned forward.  "You want to interfere."

"That's right."

"The Host will not be pleased."

"Has that ever stopped us, Beelzebub?"

A minute of silence passed as Beelzebub seemed to think about it.  Finally he laughed, shaking his head ruefully.  "No, I suppose it hasn't.  All right, Lucifer.  I will aid you in this."

The other nodded.  "My thanks, old friend."  He turned to the others.  "I demand nothing of any of you.  I do not need to remind you that we all fell together at the Beginning, that we fought together in the interminable wars.  That was _our_ fight.  This, I realize, is not.  I see this as a worthy cause, and one that I have chosen to champion.  Those of you who agree may act alongside us.  If there are none, Beelzebub and I will act alone, if need be, and will hold no grudge against any of you."

Beelzebub addressed his fellows, the most powerful among the fallen angels.  "You have heard his words.  Who stands with us?"

Several stood up at once, with others following suit after only a moment's hesitation.  The scarred man was standing, as were the wine lover in the Armani suit and the leather-coated teenager.  The black-haired woman who had first interrupted remained seated and smiled apologetically.  The man with the Superball seemed casually disinterested, which could not also be said for the green-eyed eight-year-old, who was trying her best to hide behind the chair she had pulled aside.  All told, however, there were more volunteers than had been expected.

"Belial, Moloch, Azazel…" Beelzebub addressed the first to stand.  "We thank you for joining with us."

"Hell, it should be interesting," Belial laughed, giving a nose-ring a sharp tug, "can't wait to see how it turns out."

The Morningstar put his hands together and bowed.  "I would thank all of you for listening, and would like to apologize for the inconvenience to the rest of you.  This meeting is officially over, but if the volunteers would be willing to stay, we do have some planning to discuss."  He looked up and scanned his fellows again before finally smiling, apparently satisfied with what he saw.  "That is all, brethren."

As they filed out once more, Lucifer Morningstar, formerly the Light of Heaven and now First among the Fallen, settled at last into a chair and allowed a sigh to escape his lips.  Things had progressed more smoothly than he had expected.

It had begun.

Author's Notes

I'd had this idea ricocheting around inside my skull for a couple of months.  Eventually I just couldn't take it anymore and set it down on paper.  One story idea led to another, and soon this grew, much like a cancer, into a multi-layered monstrosity that promises to cause me much mental anguish over the next few months.  Well, it should be interesting, at least.

            The original plan was to do a fusion of Evangelion and the Megami Tensei videogame series.  Before too long, though, I'd cut out the magic, the demon summoning, the Gaians, the Mesians, and pretty much all non-Judeo-Christian deities… which made it not much of a fusion at all.  Since most of the casual fanfic readers out there probably haven't played a Megaten game, you shouldn't have to concern yourself with that anyway.  However, Megaten fans might still see a familiar character or two pop up at some point in the future.  You'll just have to hold your breath and wait for it.

            On the absence of main EVA characters from this part: don't worry.  The prologue just got the background out of the way.  Shinji and company will be with you shortly.

            Prereading thanks go out to Akodo Tim, Hiryu, and Syndikos.  Thanks, guys, for catching a couple of embarrassing continuity problems.  Hopefully I rewrote the infected sections to your satisfaction.

            Reviews will be appreciated; flames will not.  If you love it, great!  If you don't, fine.  Just tell me _why_ you don't like it.  "d00d u suX0rz!" isn't going to be taken seriously.  

            Chapter 1 is in the mid-proofreading phase, which means it should be out in the near future.  

            Until next time.


	2. Chapter 1: Awakenings Opening Gambit

Disclaimer:  Gainax owns _Neon Genesis Evangelion_ and all characters, places, and ideas created for it.  Therefore, profiting from this work (one that features said characters, places, and ideas) would take way more effort and legal B.S.'ing than I, lazy guy that I am, am willing to expend.  Despite that, if Gainax has a problem with this story's presence on the Internet, I will swiftly and cheerfully (well, OK... swiftly and with much grumbling) remove it at the earliest opportunity. 

1 - Awakenings / Opening Gambit

Shinji Ikari spun through a dark void – a maelstrom of anguished thoughts, desperate dreams, and painful memories.  There was no light, no color; only darkness.  Somewhere beyond the vortex, Shinji reasoned, there must have been light.  It had to be there; the darkness could not possibly go on forever.  Shinji believed it to be so, and because of that it was true.

When he turned away from the darkness, the pull came not from the light, but from behind.  It called, beckoned, sucked him inward.  In an instant, Shinji understood.  The light was not his place.  This was where he belonged.  In the darkness.

Shinji relinquished his hold on his mind and was pulled inward, into the center of the maelstrom.

Into the darkness.

The memories came unbidden; Shinji let them surround him, engulf him in their embrace.

_Pilot!  Whoever you are… I'm going to help you…But I don't know how!  You tore Asuka and Rei apart so easily…  No, not you.  The Angel.  Such power…_

_I'm… afraid… what if I hurt you? What if you kill me?_

_Wait… what's happening?  What's going on?  No!  Stop this!  Father, turn it off!  You're killing him!_

_Touji?_

_Touji… maimed, a cripple… your fault.  You destroyed him.  If only you'd fought… If only you hadn't been so afraid…_

_What's happening up there?  Father, let me go!  _

_Asuka's screaming.  Asuka!  I can hear you!  Can't you hear me?  Help's coming.  Just wait a little longer._

_Asuka, listen to me!  _

_…Asuka?_

_Couldn't help you.  I wanted to so badly, but there was nothing I could do._

_And now you're a wreck.  You hate me._

_I deserve it.  I should have helped you…_

_Misato?_

_Misato's in the kitchen.  What's she doing?_

_Tears?  She's… crying?_

_Something's happened.  Something's happened to Kaji._

_Should go help her.  Talk to her, hold her… something._

_I can't… Gotta get away… Go to bed, shut the door, block her out…_

_You coward._

_Ayanami!  Oh God… I need to get that thing off her…But how?_

_Ayanami… what are you doing?  Ayanami!_

_NO!_

_ Too late…_

_What?  She's…_

_It's impossible… but there she is, lying there… she's alive!_

_Rei?  Don't you remember… anything?  She's… oh God, she's just like she was when I first met her…_

_Ritsuko wants to talk.  She's going to pieces too.  She wants to talk… about…_

_So many Reis, all here… I look at her now, and I feel…_

_Betrayed._

_The new pilot says he loves me.  Not sure how to take that, but… God, I need a friend right now._

_Kaoru gives me friendship.  Asks for nothing in return.  Is this… real?_

_ We're under attack.  I hope this is all over soon…  Where's the target?_

_That's… this can't be right._

_An Angel? Him?  _

_Betrayed._

_You're not getting away that easily.  You're the enemy.  I have to kill you.  I will… kill…_

_He's looking up at me.  He wants me to live._

_What has he done?  Why?  Why must he die?_

_It's him or you.  Choose!_

It's so easy.  Like crushing an insect.

_So much pain.  So much weakness.  It follows me.  It destroys those around me._

_Is this life?_

_That's it.  That's what you've been fighting for._

_That's what you've been afraid of._

_Despair._

The silence of the cage was abruptly shattered as Evangelion Unit-01 broke its jaw restraints and gave a low, keening wail.

The Eva had demonstrated its capacity for vocalization in the past; this was, therefore, not an entirely new experience for the technicians and staff of NERV.  In the past, however, the Eva had not wailed so much as given a battle cry, a roar of rage and defiance.  This was different.  The bridge crew and NERV personnel, while preoccupied at the moment, would later remember with vivid clarity the sound of the monstrous weapon's voice: a cry of anguish and mourning that pierced the heart and soul of whoever heard it.

Makoto Hyuga, Shigeru Aoba, and Maya Ibuki shuddered as the sound reverberated throughout the testing cage.  To them, this sound was... alien.  Although they'd been given ample evidence that the Evangelions were more than they seemed, more than just simple machines, they'd continued to view their charges simply as weapons.  EVA-01's previous outbursts had only served to underscore that assumption, as they had been expressions of anger, the emotion most characteristic of instruments of the battlefield.  What could this sound mean?  What did the machine have to feel sorrow for?

Major Misato Katsuragi heard the sound and believed she understood its meaning.  During the week since Kaoru's death, Misato had watched Shinji slide further and further into a deep, brooding depression.  The Seventeenth Angel had been destroyed, the war was over... but at what cost to Shinji Ikari, the cornerstone of their success?  His friends had left him behind, his fellow pilots had been destroyed, and Shinji insisted on taking responsibility for Kaoru's death.  The only bright spot in this was the fact that the war was, indeed, over.  As if consciously denying his son even that small relief, Shinji's father, in what seemed nothing more than a calculated act of sadism, had demanded that the Third Child continue training in the Evangelion, the source of his pain.  Misato understood what the Evangelion was trying to express, having felt it acutely herself in the past months: helplessness.  Unable to protect Shinji, unable to provide him the comfort and understanding that he needed so desperately, Misato could only stand and watch as his situation grew steadily worse.  It was the saddest sound that she had ever heard; it was even more so because Misato had nearly given the same cry herself with increasing frequency.

Gendo Ikari paused in mid-stride as he walked the endless corridors of Central Dogma, listening to the sound as it built in intensity, rising to an almost ear-splitting crescendo, then fell and died away completely.  To him the scream carried a tone of accusation, demanding to know why Gendo had done nothing to solve his son's predicament, instead deliberately making it worse.  The question plagued him now, as it had for nearly ten years.  He gave it the only response that he could: "Wait for me, Yui.  Soon, everything will be set right again.  Have patience."

Rei Ayanami, standing unnoticed in one corner of the bridge, felt a twinge of emotion as the horrible keening washed over her.  It manifested itself as what could only be described as an aching sensation.  It was unexpected and unfamiliar.  Rei felt as though she should understand what had occasioned it, but... the comprehension remained just beyond her reach.  The second Rei Ayanami would have understood.  The second Rei Ayanami would have known why, every time she watched the Third Child's steady downward spiral, she felt this inexplicable pain.  The third Rei Ayanami did not know, and was left to piece together these unexplained surges of emotion as if assembling a jigsaw puzzle with only half its pieces.  _Perhaps more contact with Pilot Ikari will help me to understand_, she thought, resolving to speak with Shinji after the test.

Only faint echoes of the wailing penetrated the walls of the NERV infirmary.  Asuka Langley Soryu trembled slightly as the sound reached her ears.  A tear ran slowly down her face and her lips parted briefly, although no sound came forth.  A moment later the trembling ceased and her mouth closed, and she became, once more, unresponsive.

The Evangelion's wailing persisted for more than half a minute, after which it fell silent and slumped forward against the cage's restraints as if exhausted.  The entry plug was ejected from the monster's back, although the bridge crew would later check the records and discover that no command had been issued to that effect.

After Shinji's removal from EVA-01's entry plug, he'd been put through the standard checkout procedures: Maya, still struggling to adjust to her new position as head of Project E, had asked him what had happened, if he had noticed anything strange while within his Evangelion.  Shinji replied simply that he had not and politely asked if he could leave, as he was tired and wanted to go home.  Surprised, Maya could only nod, realizing only after the Third Child had left that he'd shown no interest in his synch ratio... and that she had neglected to inform him that, during the incident, his rating had only been a few tenths of a point short of one hundred percent.

Misato had met up with him as he left the locker room, and had walked with him to the exit.  Shinji didn't look at her; in fact, he'd given her no indication that he'd noticed her presence beyond a brief nod in response to her (forced) cheery hello.  As he walked in step with her out of Central Dogma, his normally alert eyes remained fixed on the floor before him.  In what was, in a way, a more startling occurrence than the EVA's screaming, he walked right past his father without even looking up.  Misato looked back over her shoulder as the walked away from the Commander; he was walking in the other direction, looking as though he couldn't care less that he'd failed to elicit even fear or nervousness from his son.  She reflected, with a faint sense of unease, that the resemblance between the Third Child and his father had begun to grow disturbingly close.

Now, having driven for over twenty minutes through the deserted streets of Tokyo-3 without a word passing between the two of them, Misato could no longer stand it and broke the silence.

"Shinji... are you okay?"  Immediately she started berating herself for her stupidity.  _No, you idiot, of course he's not okay.  He hasn't been "okay" for months and he sure as hell isn't okay now.  I mean, look at him.  Doesn't even look up when I talk.  I knew you were thick, girl, but really.  Are you so blind that you actually need to ask when the answer is obvious?_

"I'm fine, Misato."  As Misato had predicted, Shinji's face and voice remained devoid of emotion, his gaze remaining on his feet.

_And any moron could have predicted that he'd deny having problems anyway.  If you'd paid any attention to him for the past year even you would have realized that.  Honestly... you are a real piece of work, you know that?  Making yourself out to be taking care of Shinji, and you can't really help him to save his life.  Or yours, for that matter._  Briefly she entertained thoughts of flooring the accelerator and taking a few corners at 150 kph, the kind of stunt that would have had Shinji climbing the walls a few months back.  _Only you would think of that as a way to help someone.  Jesus, Misato, they actually let you take care of kids?_

"Um... Rei came up to me today, towards the end of your test.  She said that she wanted to talk to you.  And I, well, I didn't know if you'd really want to or not, so I told her I'd just let you know and you could get back to her, but I was wondering if you wanted to invite her over for dinner tonight and..."

Shinji mercifully interrupted her babbling.  "No."  Still staring blankly into space, Shinji could have passed for Rei himself.

_No, he doesn't want to talk to Rei.  You don't either, you stupid bitch.  I mean, what the hell?  You couldn't even look her straight in the eye when she came to talk to you about Shinji.  Now that you know what she is, you can't even pay her the small respect of treating her like a human being.  And you should've known better than to remind Shinji of her now.  He was closer to her than you've ever been._

"I, uh, didn't know what to do about dinner tonight, so... well, I mean, I didn't want to make you cook, and I'm sure that you don't want _me_ to make anything for you..." Misato sneaked a glance at Shinji, looking for some reaction, some sign that Shinji had noticed her feeble attempt at humor.  She was disappointed, although not entirely surprised, when there was none.  "And anyway, I was going to just get takeout, maybe a pizza or something, if that's all right with you..."

"I'll cook," Shinji said unexpectedly, although his words remained in the same dead tones he'd been using.

"Shinji, don't feel like you have to," Misato said quickly, "it's really no problem for me to-"

"We already have vegetables in the refrigerator.  If we don't use them, they'll go bad.  We may as well not let them go to waste," Shinji cut her off, making his longest statement of the entire day.

"Uh... okay..."

Feeling utterly defeated, Misato steered the blue Renault into the empty lot of the apartment complex they called home.  The two of them climbed the stairs to their home in silence.  Upon reaching the door, Misato stopped and took another hard look at her roommate.  Shinji's expression still hadn't changed; he continued looking blankly ahead as he waited for Misato to unlock the door.  _Talk to me, Shinji,_ she mentally begged him.  _You can't just bury everything inside yourself like this._  No response.  _Come on, damn it.  Say something.  Anything.  Please, Shinji?_

"Is something wrong with your key?"  Shinji asked, still looking ahead at the wall next to the door.

With a start Misato realized that she'd been standing there for nearly a minute with her key at the lock, staring at him.  "No," she sighed, deflating, "no, nothing's wrong."  Without another word, she unlocked the door and let them both in.

For the next half hour the apartment was silent except for the sounds of Shinji moving about the kitchen.  After five minutes of standing in the doorway, unable to think of any way to break the silence, Misato gave up and began walking through the apartment.

_So you've let it come to this, Misato,_ she thought darkly to herself as she paced the hallway.  _You're just going to let him go to pieces.  As I recall, the first night he stayed here you grabbed him by the hair and chewed him out for not being assertive enough.  What happened to all that fire you used to have, Misato?_

"It's still there," she whispered, desperately trying to convince herself that the words were true.  

Oh, really?  Judging from that little 'conversation' you two had in the car, he's worse than ever, and you're starting to act just like he used to.  Now you're Shinji and he's Rei.  Can't wait until it starts getting even worse.  I wonder what the next step down is?

Misato slid a door open and strode through.

_Ah, I know.  This is it, right here_.

Without realizing it, she'd stepped into Asuka's room.  Her hand groped for the light switch, but when hitting it made no difference Misato abruptly remembered that the lamp had been smashed against one wall and she'd never bothered to replace it.  After a moment her eyes adjusted to the darkness and the wreckage of the redhead's room came into focus.  The place looked as though several good-sized tornadoes had been through it, after which an N2 mine had been set off for good measure.  Books had been pulled from their shelves; the torn and shredded pages were strewn about the room.  The stereo lay smashed against one wall, although nothing in the room was heavy enough to have done it.  Misato remembered Asuka's bleeding hands as she'd stalked from the room a month and a half ago.  Here and there a large dent, streaked with reddish brown, marked where the girl had struck the wall in her fit of rage.  The ripped remnants of Asuka's dresses and clothes were heaped in one corner.  A few months ago Misato would have sworn that the girl would rather have died than allowed harm to come to her precious collection of clothing.

_Rather would have died, eh?  I suppose she remembered that as soon as you let her run away.  And you called yourself her guardian.  Great job, Misato.  Well, at least Shinji hasn't tried to kill himself yet.  On the other hand, considering what a bang-up job you're doing of taking care of him, that's probably not far off, either.  Wonder what Asuka will do if Shinji succeeds at that, too?  Beaten by him again, even at the last.  The final insult._

"Misato?  It's ready."

She turned to find Shinji standing at the door, giving no sign that he recognized the room that he was looking into.  Without another word he turned and set off for the kitchen, without even waiting to see if Misato had understood him.

The pervasive silence continued throughout most of dinner.  Shinji had simply made ramen - not that Misato was complaining, as it was good and, as Shinji had said, it helped to use up the remaining vegetables in the refrigerator.   But Shinji seemed not to care about the quality of the food he had made; when Misato had complimented him after the first bite, his only response had been a simple, cheerless "thank you", one devoid of any happiness or pride in his work.  Misato had shut up after that, and the quiet had settled over the table like a curtain.  

Now the meal was almost done.  If for no better reason than to assuage her guilty conscience, Misato decided to make one final attempt at getting a response from Shinji.  

Attempts at polite or "normal" conversation had failed utterly, and so she decided at last on a direct attack.

"Shinji, why won't you talk to me?"

Infuriatingly, Shinji's eyes remained on his plate.  "What do you want to talk about?" he asked, his tone indicating that he didn't really care one way or the other and would talk if it would prevent trouble.

Despite herself, Misato felt her frustration begin to overcome her.  "You _know_ what," she said, keeping her voice low and controlled, "so don't pretend that you're surprised when people keep asking about it.  I know something's wrong with you, despite the fact that you don't seem to notice that I know you're lying when you deny it.  I've got a good idea of what the problem is, too."  Shinji sniffed, which may or may not have been a gesture of contempt.  "But I need you to talk to me."

"There's no need," Shinji said, his eyes still facing downwards.

"Don't do that," Misato warned, "there is a need.  I want to help you."

"No, you don't," Shinji countered.  He pushed his chair back, stood, and walked out, leaving the rest of his dinner behind him.

"You're not walking away from this," Misato hissed, her voice rising as she jumped up and moved to cut him off.  "Don't think that you know better than I do.  That attitude is getting real annoying."  Finding the route to his bedroom blocked, Shinji headed for the living room instead.  Misato followed.  "Now tell me how I can help you."

"If you try to help me, you'll just be hurt.  Stop trying to bring pain to yourself for my sake.  It doesn't suit you."  The words issued mechanically from his mouth, as though they were part of a programmed response that Shinji had prepared for just this situation.

Misato stopped at the door and stared at him.  "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"You obviously don't understand."  Shinji stood in the darkened room, his back to Misato.  "Trying to help people... all that it's brought is pain.  I keep seeing other people get hurt, because of me."  He turned and, for the first time this day, he met her gaze, though his eyes remained empty.  "Don't try to help me.  I don't want you to be hurt anymore, Misato."

Misato's fists clenched.  This was getting to be more than she could stand; all the barely-checked emotion of the past two months, coupled with the stubborn foolishness of the situation she was looking at now, all surged to the fore at once.  She struggled to keep control.  She was on the edge of tears, and her voice came out as a choked whisper.  "Don't you understand anything?  Do you really think acting like this is protecting you from pain?"  She gave a hoarse laugh.  "Then your reasoning must be royally messed up, because I don't think I've ever seen anybody so tortured in my life."  Misato took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing.  "I can't sit back and let you go on like this.  Maybe you think you're doing me a favor by keeping me at a distance, but it's tearing me to pieces to sit by and watch you go through this.  I have to help you, Shinji, because sitting by and doing nothing is going to kill me.  Don't ask me not to help you."

Shinji looked at the floor.  "Sorry," he muttered.

Misato exploded.  "Don't fucking say that!" she screamed at him.  Shinji's head jerked up again, his eyes wide with shock.  "Don't you _ever_ say that, damn it!"  Suddenly the tears started flowing, but she held Shinji's astonished gaze even as they streamed down her face.  "You think that you're the only one who's hurting?  You actually believe that nobody else understands you?  Do you think that you're the only person in this fucking city who's lost someone?"  She took a step towards Shinji, who flinched visibly and began to back away.  "I liked Rei too, God damn it!  I liked Asuka too!  Taking care of her was _my_ responsibility, Shinji!  Mine!  Not yours!  Do you know what it's like to learn that your best friend since college has been stabbing you in the back?  How about having the man you love taken away just as you're finally realizing how important he is to you?"  She put her face close to Shinji's; alarmed, he took another step back.  "You think it's easy to have someone under your care attempt suicide?  Or to watch someone, one of the best, most wonderful people in the world, continue to blame _himself_ for all _its_ problems?"  Now she was hysterical.  "Well, it's not!  And if you think, Shinji, that I'm going to let you go on pulling this shit with me, then you've got something else coming!  If you don't fucking snap out of it, I'm going to..."

Misato realized that she was jabbing a finger violently at her charge with every word.  For his part, Shinji had run out of space to back up and was now pressed up against the wall, his eyes on Misato's finger as if he expected it to grow fangs and attack at any time.  Suddenly losing her train of thought as she stared at Shinji's wide eyes, Misato trailed off uncertainly.  

_Christ, what am I doing?_  A fresh wave of tears blurred her vision as Shinji's gaze lifted to meet her own.  _Oh, shit... he's going to hate me._  "Oh god... I'm sorry Shinji, I shouldn't have yelled at you, I've just been so frustrated lately.  I mean, the war's over, and we're supposed to be done, but they're still making you do synch tests even though everybody knows how much you hate that machine and I know that can't be making it any easier for you on top of everything and whatever I try to do or say just makes it worse and..."  She was losing coherence quickly, she knew, but she kept desperately pushing ahead.  _Please, Shinji, say something, tell me you understand, just don't close up on me again, please..._  "...and I just wanted to talk tonight, I just wanted to start over again like the past week hadn't happened so I'd have a chance to make things better, but then I blew it and you said 'sorry' and I thought of what Asuka would have said if she'd heard you say that and that just made it worse and..."

She trailed off again and blinked.  Shinji was still looking her in the eyes.  It took a moment for her to realize that he was crying too... although he was remaining much more composed than his guardian.  On impulse Misato threw her arms around him and pulled him close.  She could only sob in relief as she felt Shinji's arms encircle her as well.

Somehow they stumbled to the couch and collapsed onto it.  Neither of them kept track of the time, but they would later guess that they must have remained there, holding each other silently, for at least twenty minutes.

Shinji finally whispered, "I just want things to be the way they were before."

"I know," Misato sniffed, "I do too."  _We just saved the world, for Christ's sake.  Shouldn't things be getting better, not worse?_

They fell asleep together on the couch shortly after that.  Before she drifted off Misato realized that she still hadn't really gotten Shinji to talk to her, beyond that final couple of sentences.  All she'd done was cry on him.

Despite that, she felt a little better for the first time in days.

In a darkened alleyway somewhere in Beijing, the first action of the new phase of the war was about to be made.  

A small flame appeared in midair.  It was a flickering orange fire, about three inches from base to tip, which seemed relatively unconcerned by the fact that there was no solid fuel for it to burn.  A careful observer would note that the flame ignored several laws of physics; besides the fact that it floated four feet above the ground, it gave off no heat and shed no light upon the concrete walls of the alley.  One would also quickly realize that the stench of human excrement and rotting garbage in the alley was almost unbearable.  Bringing an open flame here would likely be a serious health hazard, but this specimen seemed unaffected by its surroundings.

There were no people in the alley this night, and so the flame remained unnoticed as it bobbed slightly in the air and began slowly to make its way about in the darkness, dipping briefly behind piles of trash and refuse and reappearing a few seconds later, as if disappointed.

Thirty seconds after the arrival of the floating fire, a second appeared.  This one was a deep blue in color, and immediately began gradually moving around in a tight circle, as if impatient.

After several minutes the orange flame was apparently satisfied with its inspection of the alley and returned to its azure counterpart.  The two tiny lights circled each other briefly for a few seconds; then the blue flame backed away from the other into a corner.  It hovered there for a moment, both it and its companion remaining still.  The alley was silent but for the barking of a dog somewhere in the distance.

With a sound like the roar of a beast, the blue flame suddenly flared, growing in both directions until it burned at last from the ground, reaching nearly six feet in height.  The intensity of the light grew until viewing it was painful and it began to throw off waves of white radiance, bathing the alley in light and causing the accumulated bags of garbage to cast long shadows against the crumbling pavement.

The fire imploded inwards, giving one last blinding pulse of light before going out entirely.  In its place was left a small floating orb of flesh.  It pulsated slightly and a ripple ran across its venous surface.  The orange flame approached it slowly, haltingly, as if wary of disturbing a delicate procedure.

The orb quivered as the flame drew near and began to expand, emitting a wet sound of bubbling and popping.  A bulge moved slowly along one of the veins as if something within was trying to escape.  A quiet but piercing whine rose from the mass of flesh as the quivering grew more violent, with more bulges pressing against its surface.  The orange flame came to a halt a few feet away and waited.

Abruptly the sphere exploded into a writhing mass of ropy tendrils, all twisting and lashing about wildly.  They lengthened and grew thicker, binding together into larger tendrils, splitting apart, and changing in texture and color.  Four masses of the squirming tissue erupted from the main body, two dragging loosely on the ground, two flopping about in the air.  Something wet began to drip to the stones; soon the foul air was made still ranker by the metallic scent of blood.

Numbers of the dripping tentacles would periodically disengage themselves from the mass as though taking a brief break before returning to their task.  In the gaps left by their absence could be seen the results of their handiwork.  Here and there flashes of blood-streaked white bone were visible, and something that looked disturbingly like a human intestine was hanging loose below the thing.  The four protruding bundles of the worm-like creatures no longer remained limp, but were now straight and jointed.

After two minutes the numbers of the tendrils began to diminish, revealing what was clearly a human being, albeit an incomplete one.  Bare muscle was clearly visible, often indistinguishable from the bloody strands that swarmed about it.  The arms and legs terminated in splaying fan-like clusters of the wriggling worms, which even now were beginning to twist together to form fingers and toes.  Although largely defined, the face still lacked eyes, ears, or a mouth; where they would have been were instead empty holes, in which more of the things could be seen, hard at work at their grotesque task.

And now the tentacles themselves were beginning to grow smaller, to divide into tiny strands which wormed their way across the body of what was now definitely a man in his late thirties.  They made their way to any location that was not yet complete, doing what could only be described as "detail work."  They traveled to the edges of the growing patches of skin and went flat and smooth, forming what became a perfect, unbroken surface.  They went to the scalp, arranged themselves, and ceased moving; when inspected, all that could be seen was a bed of spiky black hair.  Several squirmed onto his eyeballs, which still lacked irises, and melted into the wet lens until a ring of dark brown, almost black, surrounded each pupil.

Just as the body was nearing completion, a few detached from the man's neck and chest, moving downwards, where they crawled into his navel and vanished from sight.  Their erstwhile neighbors rebound themselves, leaving a puckered red scar where before there had been only smooth skin.

When it was done, a human being stood naked in a pool of blood in the alley, where before there had been nothing.

A voice, deep and cultured, emanated from the orange flame, which had not moved during this entire episode.  "Interesting... although not as elegant as I would like."

The newly-created man rolled his eyes as he raised his hands above his head and stretched.  "Well, excuse me if I'm not quite as up on this as you seraphim, Beelzebub.  We bottom-rung angels have to make do with what we have, thank you."  His joints popped audibly and he winced.  "Haven't figured out how to stop that from happening yet."

Azazel's senior chuckled.  "Fair enough."  That brief moment of humor ended quickly, his tone once more becoming businesslike.  "Now, Azazel, to your business."

Azazel waved a hand in a dismissive gesture.  "Yeah, I know.  Stop the meddlers from attacking NERV.  I've never played savior before.  Should be interesting."

"Don't be overconfident," Beelzebub warned, "this mission is important.  You, as before, will bear our standard to the field of battle.  If you underestimate your situation, the first move of this game may also be our last.  If the First Man and Woman are reunited, we will not have a second chance."

"Don't worry, man!  I've got this covered.  You guys just sit tight and admire a pro at work."

"Azazel..."

"I know, I know.  I'll be careful."

"See that you do."  Beelzebub moved close to Azazel and hovered just before his abdomen.  "What is this?" the Fallen lord asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"What?  Oh, that!"  Azazel slapped his stomach and laughed.  "That's just an extra trick for the road.  Just in case things go wrong, y'know?"

"Do not rely on such tactics, Azazel.  We cannot afford to..."

"Hey, hey, easy!  Easy!"  Azazel raised his hands in a pacifying gesture.  "I'm not planning on using this anytime soon."

A sigh rose from the flame.  "See that you do not.  Farewell."  With that, Beelzebub winked out of existence.

"Same to you, old man," Azazel called to the empty alley.  He looked about himself, noticing for the first time the state of the place he was in.  "Yech!  People actually live in this hole?"  He cast a glance at himself.  "So.  Naked, covered in shit and soaked in blood.  Welcome to China, yeah?"  Shaking his head ruefully, he headed for the mouth of the alley to take a wary glance outside.  Seeing no passersby at this time of night, he strolled out into the street, mentally running down a list of places where a naked man could find clothing without being noticed.

Shinji awakened the next morning with a stiff back that he could immediately tell was going to stick around for at least the first part of the day.  At some point during the night he'd disentangled himself from Misato's embrace.  His guardian now lay unceremoniously sprawled across the remaining three-fourths of the sofa, her mouth wide open, looking like she was in the process of sleeping off a hangover.  Maybe, Shinji mused, her body had grown so accustomed to actually _being_ intoxicated that it now always assumed this sleeping position reflexively.  The thought made him laugh unexpectedly.  Almost immediately he closed his mouth sheepishly, as if he'd been caught in the act of a childish prank; the sound had seemed out-of-place in the silent apartment.  He looked warily at Misato, but she just muttered something unintelligible and rolled over onto her stomach.

What had happened in here last night?  Misato had come to him, had wanted to help him.  She'd said that she couldn't watch him any more, couldn't bear to see him walk the path he was on.  She'd been trying to save him, to pull him from the mire of depression that he knew he was sinking into.

Was that it, though?  She couldn't watch Shinji suffer.  Watching Shinji suffer had caused her pain.  She'd already been feeling considerable pain, after Asuka's attempted suicide, Kaji's death, the discovery of Ritsuko's betrayal, and everything else that had happened in the past months.

That wasn't all, then.  She hadn't been helping him purely out of altruism.  Inaction was hurting her, and so she took action instead, to spare herself the pain of being helpless.  She'd spoken up last night as much for her own sake as for his.

And still, Shinji couldn't deny that he had let Misato come to him.  He had shed tears too, last night, and they had not been merely for show; her words had connected with him and he'd felt as if there was a bond between them, a link of shared pain.  "Misery loves company," the saying went.  Perhaps there was some truth to the words after all.  When she had pulled him close to her he had felt warmth.  It had been a small measure of relief, of happiness.

Shinji realized now that this had been only the second time that Misato had openly expressed this kind of affection for him; it was only the second time that she'd tried to come close.  Both instances had been brought about by pain, by despair.  

After the attack of the Twelfth Angel, Misato had been desperate to reach him, to see that he was alive.  He'd been trapped inside of the thing for hours and by the end she'd been clinging only to a tiny strand of hope that things would be all right.  When the hope had materialized in front of her in the form of a Shinji barely conscious and hanging from a thread of life, she'd seized on it in relief, both physically and emotionally.

Last night she'd seen Shinji slipping away, imagined him headed for the same fate as Asuka: an attempted or, God forbid, a successful suicide, followed by confinement in the infirmary and conscious self-isolation from the outside world.  The rest of Misato's relief and happiness having already been stripped from her, she'd tried to grab Shinji, her last remaining lifeline, in what she must have seen as her last chance to salvage part of her life.

Why had he allowed her to be close, then?  Kindness?  No, he decided, he'd been worse than Misato in this regard.  She'd come to him in despair, seeking comfort.  He'd provided it, but... had he felt any real joy in extending a hand to one in need?  No, he decided, it had been nothing but selfishness.  When he'd let Misato come close, he'd been giving her what she'd craved, but it had been a halfhearted form of assistance, like a wealthy man giving money to a bum on the street only because it was expected of him.  His real intent had been, not to help, but to get personal satisfaction from seeing Misato's pain; to derive some sadistic pleasure from seeing another with nearly as many problems as himself.

Was this true, then?  What kind of monster was he becoming?  He was no longer simply bringing anguish to those around him; he was beginning to thrive on the pain he brought.  

He should leave.  He should run away.  He should quit his job at NERV, leave everybody; only when Misato, Asuka, Rei, and his father were behind him could any of them hope for peace.  Of those prospects, only that of leaving Gendo Ikari brought a small rush of happiness.  Shinji didn't notice this, though; he was too preoccupied with what he thought of as his own dilemma.

It was simple, then.  He would leave.  If he was enjoying the pain of others now, how long would it be before he began to cause it intentionally?  This had gone on for long enough.  

_So you think you don't care about the others anymore.  Then why do you still care enough to leave?  Why do you not simply stay and prolong their torment? Why?_

"Shinji...?"

He realized that Misato was looking at him sleepily, forcing herself awkwardly into something resembling a sitting position.  Her eyes and her utterance of Shinji's name both held a string of unspoken questions: "Is that you?" "Are you all right?" "Did you sleep well?" "You're not ashamed of me after that, are you?" and so forth.

"Good morning, Misato," Shinji said, in a tone that he hoped held more animation than he felt, "I was just about to wake you up, anyway."  

"What time is it?"

He looked to the VCR, which thankfully had been reprogrammed since the last local blackout.  "About a quarter after seven."

"You want to use the bathroom first?  I should be able to make something for breakfast.  Maybe toast; at least it's hard to screw up."

The conversation was utterly meaningless; any other day they would simply have settled into the morning routine without planning how it would be run.  Shinji decided it wasn't worth mentioning, instead forcing his face into something that didn't feel at all like the smile it was supposed to be.  "That's okay, Misato.  You go ahead and go first.  I should be able to make some eggs before you're done."

His guardian gave him a long, searching look.  Finally she smiled and said, "Okay.  See you in a few, then."  She stood and headed for the bathroom.

As Shinji stood up, she stuck her head back in.  "Oh, Shinji?  Work should be pretty easy today, just so you know.  You won't have any synch tests."

"That's good."  At least his smile didn't feel faked this time.

"Pilot Ikari?"

Although most who had met her would not have guessed it, Rei Ayanami was quite adept at gauging other people's emotions.  It was a talent, part acquired skill and part instinct, which had been cultivated over years of observing the exchanges between the Commander and his subordinates.  As time had passed, Rei had learned to differentiate between the minute changes in Gendo Ikari's facial expressions.  Now, after nearly fifteen years, Rei could hear a single word from the Commander's mouth, take one glance at his posture, and immediately tell if he was pleased, agitated, impatient, or amused.  

Saying that the Commander was an impassive man would have been making an understatement.  His son, on the other hand, was far less practiced at disguising his feelings.  Before the greeting was even out of Rei's mouth, Shinji's shoulders slumped slightly and his face tilted to the floor, his body language shifting from "I'm bored" to "oh shit, it's you."  The Third Child practically screamed "don't talk to me" without saying a word.

For a moment Rei considered the possibility that speaking with Shinji was a poorly conceived idea.  Certainly, if he did not want to speak with her, Rei's chances of gaining useful insight from their conversation would be slim indeed.  Rei felt a brief twinge of discomfort as she considered that she was making Shinji uncomfortable for her own gain.  She forced these doubts down in a second, reasoning that the potential gains would ultimately outweigh any discomfort that the conversation caused.

"Pilot Ikari…" she repeated.  Shinji turned about slowly to face her with the air of a man bracing himself for an inevitable punishment.  _Why does he not wish to speak to me?_ she wondered.  Unwilling to let the thought deter her, Rei continued.  "I wish to speak with you."  

The corner of Shinji's mouth twitched, as though he was suppressing an urge to laugh.  What was he laughing at?  Was it her?  Did he find her humorous?  _This is not characteristic of his behavior._

  At last Shinji gave a slight inclination of his head, barely a nod.  "Why else would you call me?  What do you need?"

"I wish to know why I feel as I do about you.  When I am around you, I… do not feel comfortable."

Again, Shinji's mouth quirked.  "Well, I don't feel comfortable around you either… anymore."  He blushed suddenly, his eyes going wide as he apparently realized he had spoken the last word aloud.  "I mean, I…" He snuck a glance down the corridor as if looking for an escape route.

So, Rei considered, Shinji shared a similar condition.  According to him, however, this was a recent development.  "Ikari-kun… we have been near each other for a year.  Why do you now-?"

The change was instantaneous and blatant.  Shinji's hands clenched into fists and his eyes narrowed.  When he spoke, though, his voice remained the sound of perfect calm.  "No.  _We_ have not been near each other for a year.  _You _have been near me, if you can call it that, for less than a month.  _She_ was near me for most of a year.  _She_ was my friend."  His voice broke slightly, but when he spoke again his tone was once again even.  "And in the end, it didn't even matter.  She wasn't the person I thought she'd been.  She wasn't even human."

Shinji smiled, but the expression lacked emotion; there was none of the warmth that Rei had come to associate with him.  "They say sacrificing your life to save another is the greatest act of love that you can perform.  What if you can't die, though?  It takes the meaning away from your action, doesn't it?"  Shinji's voice grew dull, the ironic tone fading away.  "You should stay away from me, Ayanami.  There won't be another _you_ to take your place the next time my father needs you to save EVA-01."  He turned on his heel and stalked off down the corridor, leaving Rei alone.

Rei stared after him even after he turned a corner and disappeared from sight.  She reflected that the conversation had proven more informative than she had expected, although not in the way she had anticipated.  For some reason, she felt no satisfaction from this.

During the average business day millions of people walked the streets of Beijing, transforming the city into a surreal pastiche of characters from all walks of life.  Small children played on the sidewalks.  Government workers and industrial managers traveled from meeting to meeting, too single-mindedly absorbed in their business to pay attention to those whom they passed.  Thieves and pickpockets stalked said officials, their eyes always peeled for an easy mark.  Vendors and traders hawked their wares in markets.  Prostitutes offered company for the weary… or the unwary.  And, always, there were the soldiers, standing post at street corners, patrolling neighborhoods, lumbering through the city in massive trucks, gliding over it in helicopters.  

None of them were aware of the massive facility beneath their feet.  If they had been, they would likely have had far more important matters on their minds than the trivialities that normally comprised their day-to-day activities.  Even the staunchest, most loyal member of the People's Army would be hard pressed to hold his post if he knew that the intended instruments of his own destruction were stored beneath him. 

It was amazing, Azazel thought with bitter amusement, that here, in the midst of millions of their fellow men, the council of puppeteers had been able to hollow out a cavern large enough to house several good-sized villages without any of them noticing.  Azazel was unsure if the situation was a testament to SEELE's power to deceive others or to the general populace's power to deceive itself.  Either way, it was a rather sad commentary on the human condition.

The fallen angel checked his watch – a gold Rolex according to the street vendor he'd purchased it from, although Azazel was certain it was neither.  Only fifteen minutes until the shift change.  Time to get a move on.

He crossed the street, slipping easily through the foot traffic.  Tossing the newspaper he'd been reading into a trashcan as he passed by, Azazel quickly moved to the hotel and stepped inside, giving the doorman a friendly nod as he did so.

The hotel's lobby was extravagant and spacious, large enough to accommodate several small houses on the inside.  Paying the architecture and gaudy decorations no heed, Azazel headed for the elevators.  

"Fourteenth floor," he requested as the doors slid shut behind him.

The operator, a young man with neatly combed black hair and a smile that appeared to have been forcibly grafted onto his face, bowed and quickly complied.  "Back from work, Mr. Harkov?"

Azazel smiled easily.  "Don't I wish it.  No, I just forgot something in my room.  I actually start in about ten minutes.  Looks like this one's going to be another all-nighter."

The operator winced sympathetically.  "So sorry to hear that."

"Ah, well… it's a living, right?"  With an appreciative laugh from the operator, silence settled over the elevator until it arrived at its destination.  "See you in a few," Azazel called over his shoulder as he headed down the hallway.

The fourteenth floor of the hotel was occupied entirely by the staff members who operated the secret facility – a staging area in which the Mass Produced Evangelions were maintained and prepped prior to combat.  Although all members of the staff were employees of SEELE, the official record stated that they were the technical engineers for a new United Nations project.  As far as any member of the general populace knew, the occupants of the fourteenth floor were in Beijing to construct a revolutionary new air-purification system.  Here, the system would eliminate industrial pollution; if the UN propaganda could be believed, a variant of the system would ultimately be implemented worldwide, gradually shifting Earth's climate back to the equilibrium it had enjoyed before the Second Impact.

Or at least, it would if any such system actually existed.  If the machines that actually were stationed below Beijing functioned as expected, such concerns as global warming would become irrelevant – along with everything else.  With all of humanity a single entity – the will of each individual wiped away in an instant – the only concerns that would matter would be those of the godlike SEELE members. 

Pushing that unpleasant thought from his mind, Azazel reached the door he wanted and knocked.  "Housekeeping," he called.

"Just a minute!" came the reply from within.  Azazel waited patiently for the door to open.  

Contrary to Beelzebub's concerns, Azazel had planned his mission with meticulous detail before he'd arrived on Earth.  In order for his plan to succeed, he would need access to the 05-series Evangelions – and that required clearance that was only possessed by those who worked on them.  To gain that clearance, Azazel needed to pose as an employee.  Maintaining that charade would require not only duplicate identification, but also a duplicate body – one whose face, voice, DNA, and retinal patterns matched those of the actual employee.  Azazel had kept this in mind when assembling his physical shell that morning.

Therefore, when Peter Harkov answered the knock on his door, he found himself face to face with his own mirror image.

As Azazel had predicted, the man's immediate reaction was to step back in shock.  Before he had recovered sufficiently from his surprise to react in any way, Azazel had followed him into the room, one hand closing the door behind him, the other reaching forward to thumb a nerve in Harkov's neck.  The SEELE technician was unconscious instantly.  

Azazel eased Harkov's body gently to the floor, quickly found his identification, and moved to the closet.  Grabbing one of Harkov's spare technician's uniforms, he quickly changed and stepped outside once again, leaving the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door as he left.  The entire process had taken less than a minute.

The elevator operator with the plastic smile was still there when Azazel returned.  The fallen angel mentally checked off phase one of his plan as he entered the lift.  Now he needed to get into the facility.  

At the time of Kaoru Nagisa's physical death, Tokyo-3 had become what could only be described as a city of corpses.  The landscape, pockmarked with craters, recounted the history of the battles that had ravaged the city.  Several of the craters showed signs of landscaping work and attempted reclamation; the damage done by the early Angels Sachiel and Ramiel had vanished completely.  In some cases one had to look carefully to see where the Angels had fallen.  

No effort had been made to hide the devastation of the battle with the Sixteenth, Armisael.  The combined explosion of the Sixteenth Angel and Evangelion Unit-00 had done more damage than any of Armisael's predecessors.  Now, several weeks later, the earth remained blackened and scorched; buildings near the edge of the blast remained toppled, with cracks and shattered windows plainly evident.  It was as if, with only one Angel remaining, NERV had decided it was no longer worth the effort of reconstruction.  

Reflecting a similar attitude, the mobile workers and civilians of the city had, with the Sixteenth's destruction, realized at last that remaining in Tokyo-3 would most certainly be fatal.  After all, who was to know how much damage the Seventeenth would do?  Unwilling to take the risk, a mass exodus of unnecessary personnel, encouraged in part by NERV itself, had left the city with only a shadow of its former vitality.

Yet, as in any emergency, there remained stragglers, those who, through pride, stubbornness, or suicidal impulse, refused to leave.  Those who were fortunate enough still to have homes remained there; others set up camp in abandoned shops and offices.  Lastly, there were those who, for whatever reason, remained on the streets, living in camps and makeshift villages in the city's alleyways.

It was these people who occupied the attention of the angel Tabris.  In his millions of years of existence, Tabris had never been so intrigued by anything as by the human race.  Owing perhaps to humanity's command of his element, free will, the angel was continually surprised and amused by the way men always failed to act as one expected them to.  These people were no exception.  A society that suddenly found itself without laws would normally undergo an explosion of anarchy; looting, vandalism, and drunken revelry would be commonplace.  In the face of the kind of inevitable destruction represented by the Angels, these symptoms would be amplified; with nothing left to lose, even the most reprehensible behavior would suddenly seem perfectly reasonable.  None of that happened here.  Instead, Tabris observed a subdued, toughened society of individuals who were determined to face any hardship in the company of their allies.  Regardless of whether they expected to ride the destruction out or to be killed, the attitude was the same: resignation.

After choosing to flee the Host rather than rejoin it, Tabris had settled into the only place he found to have importance at the moment: the city of his death.  For the past few days he'd been watching the people in the streets, observing silently, walking among them without being noticed.  He marveled at their resilience, was amused and strangely cheered by their defiance of the Angels who had tried their utmost to destroy them… and was wracked by indecision over his own response to their situation.

Mankind was hurtling towards a crossroads; that much, at least, was certain.  What was to be done?  SEELE would take the fate of humanity in its hand and steer its course, taking humanity's future out of the hands of the only men and women who had fought to preserve it.  The injustice, the sense of being helpless, being manipulated, was uncomfortable.  Something within Tabris yearned to step forward and _do_ something.  But what could he do?  

"You look like you have something on your mind."

As he heard the voice, Tabris became aware of another angel's presence.  As the newcomer's power washed over him, his eyes widened with the realization of just who had come to see him.

"R-Raphael…" Tabris stammered unconsciously as he gave an awkward bow.  For here was the seraph Raphael, an archangel of the first order and one of the mightiest of his kind.  The highest of the seraphim had remained loyal during Lucifer's rebellion and stood at the forefront of the battle against the fallen.  In many issues, the will of the seraphim could be interpreted as that of the will of the Creator Himself.  Each individual seraph had thousands of lesser angels as personal attendants.  For Raphael to come to speak with Tabris personally was a high honor indeed.

Or an ominous foreshadowing, depending on one's point of view.

Raphael waved away Tabris' attempt at a respectful greeting.  "Don't trouble yourself.  It was _I_ who came to see _you_, after all."

"Of… of course.  What do you need from me?"

Raphael laughed.  "I never said I needed anything.  Observing humans happens to be one of my favored pastimes as well.  I simply noticed you were in the area."  The seraph turned and gestured towards an old man who was sitting on the sidewalk, oblivious to Raphael's presence, humming to himself.  "They _are_ amazing people, are they not?"  Already off-guard, Tabris could only nod dumbly as Raphael continued.  "The most powerful weapon in existence could rise up and kill one of them without warning at any moment, and yet they continue living their lives, unwilling to let that even that threat deter them."

These words, so closely resembling his own thoughts, brought Tabris up short.  "Then… tell me, Raphael… what do you think of what the Throne of Souls is planning?"

"Men like gods…" Raphael mused, chuckling.  "How ironic…"

"Raphael?" Tabris asked, confused, but the seraph seemed not to be listening.

"Ten thousand years ago," the other began, "the Creator made the First Man and Woman.  They were perfect in every way, their minds innocent and unblemished.  For ages they lived together in perfect harmony and grace under His will.  Then came Lucifer, who opened their eyes to the truth, giving them the knowledge of God, a knowledge he believed they were destined to inherit."

"I know this story, Raphael."

"Bear with me, Tabris," Raphael continued with a smile.  "By opening their eyes, the Morningstar had stolen their innocence.  When the Creator saw that His children had been corrupted in this way, he cast them down from their state of grace and into the coldness of the world.  Godlike knowledge was theirs.  All that remained for them to achieve was godlike _power_, and they would truly be able to challenge the Lord himself."  The seraph turned to Tabris and met his gaze.  "What is godlike power, Tabris?"

Tabris thought for a moment; when convinced that he had arrived at the correct answer, he said, "Eternal life."

Raphael nodded.  "But that is merely part of the whole.  Power is used to bring personal satisfaction and fulfillment.  Truly godlike power, then, is the ability to always bring happiness to oneself, and to bring it to others if necessary."

"Instrumentality," Tabris breathed, comprehension dawning.

Raphael nodded again, grinning.  "You're quite perceptive."

This was making less and less sense, Tabris thought inwardly, unable to rid himself of the feeling that he was being led in circles by Raphael solely for the seraph's amusement.  "But our Lord cast the First Man and Woman down to _prevent_ them from obtaining His power!" he protested.  "Why would He make it possible for these _men_ to do so?"

"Why indeed…" The seraph watched the old man.  It was beginning to rain, and he had backed up into an alleyway for shelter.  As they watched, two other people, a young man and woman, joined him.  They seemed nervous, but he merely smiled and beckoned them closer.

"Raphael… tell me," Tabris entreated, "I have to know what will happen!  What does He plan to do?"

To Tabris' irritation, Raphael abruptly changed the subject.  "You caused quite a stir when you failed to rejoin the Host, Tabris."

Tabris sighed.  He didn't want to talk about this.  "What do you mean?"

"Many of the angels were not sure what to do about you.  Some were ready to interpret your actions as the start of an insurrection.  There was a brief rumor that you were planning to join the Fallen."  Raphael's expression was grim.  "It was suggested that you be cast down before the corruption could spread to others of the Host."

"Let them."

"Carefully, Tabris; you're the angel of free will, not rash action," the seraph sternly reprimanded him.  Raphael's features softened as he regarded Tabris.  "The suggestion died quickly when Gabriel and I reminded them that free will _is_ your domain, and you were merely acting in accordance with your nature."

"Thank you," Tabris said sullenly.

"You wish to know what He plans, Tabris?  Very well.  Nothing."

Tabris whirled to face Raphael, his eyes wide with surprised anger.  "What?"

"Nothing at all.  He will take no action.  The Host will continue to function as is."

"What is He thinking?" Tabris demanded, "How can He simply leave them to…?"

"Why does this bother you so, Tabris?"  Raphael asked, folding his muscular arms over his chest.

"Because it's not _fair!_" Tabris shouted.  "All of humanity except for those twelve, their free will stripped away, turned into _playthings!_  How can He desire that?"  Fed up already with the seraph's company, Tabris stalked into the alley.  Halfway through, he realized it was a dead end and sat down heavily against the wall.

"There _are_ others taking action," Raphael said quietly.

Tabris looked up in surprise.  "What?"

"Just this morning, one of the Fallen, probably Azazel or Moloch, manifested in the city of Beijing.  We aren't sure exactly what he's planning; whenever observers came close to him, they felt a strong force compelling them to stay away.  That would suggest that he's under the protection of a more powerful fallen angel."

"That implies organized action," Tabris observed.

"Exactly."

Tabris put his head in his hands.  What was going on?  The existing situation was bad enough, but now the Fallen were involved.  Fallen angels were unpredictable at best, and their motivations would probably be uncertain until it was too late to do anything about it.  On top of that, Raphael himself had come here to tell him about it.  Why?  What was the purpose, if the Host was expected to do nothing?  Had Raphael merely intended to warn him against trying to interfere?

No.  There was something else at work here.

_What can you do?_ Tabris asked himself.  _What should you do? _

_ The place of the angels is with the Host,_ he reasoned.

But I am not like them.  My Lord created me differently.  

_How can I serve him?_

It kept coming back to one thing.

"As I left the Host, the Creator had just given us a message," Tabris spoke up at last.

"Oh?  Which one was that?"  Raphael asked, raising an eyebrow.  His tone suggested that he already knew what Tabris would say and was merely waiting to hear him say it.

The angel decided to indulge him.  "He said we were to reassume our places.  He trusted us to know what they were."

"Where is your place, Tabris?"  Raphael looked at him appraisingly as he asked the question.

 "I am the angel of free will.  I go wherever my will leads me."  Tabris stood and met the seraph's gaze.  "My place is here."

Raphael grinned.  "I thought you would decide that eventually."

_Of course you did.  _It was Tabris' turn to raise an eyebrow.  "Oh?  And you came here just to give me that extra little _push_?"

"Think what you like, Tabris.  If you've truly made up your mind, there's no need to be wasting time here.  I'm sure you have much to do."  Raphael turned to go.  "Would you like me to bring the Host a message?" he called over his shoulder.  "I can play the part of errand boy from time to time."

"Tell them I will not be returning for a while.  At least one of us must continue to fight for the side of good."

"Fair enough.  Good luck, Tabris.  I'm sure we'll talk again before this is over."  Raphael faded from sight as he walked away, exiting Earth's plane of existence entirely.  

Tabris stared after the seraph for a moment, then turned back to the three people in the alley.  Raphael was right.  There was work to be done.

Those in the alley observed a flash of light, which they assumed to be lightning.  Their conversation was interrupted when the younger of the two men gave an involuntary yelp and jumped back.  His two companions followed his gaze and saw a man in his early twenties with pale skin and unruly silver hair.

Tabris smiled at them reassuringly.  "Sorry if I startled you.  It's a habit I have.  Most people don't notice me when I pass them."

After recovering from his shock, the old man quickly stood and extended a hand.  "It's no problem, young man.  None at all.  In fact, you can share our little shelter here, if you like."  The other two nodded agreement.

The angel accepted the other's handshake.  "I would like that, thank you."

As Tabris took a seat, the woman asked, "What are you doing still in the city?"

"Just waiting for the end of the world," he answered, as matter-of-factly as if he'd been talking about the weather.

The old man laughed.  "Ha!  Aren't we all, friend?  Well, this city's ridden out worse.  We're just along for the ride."

The young man Tabris had initially startled spoke up.  "What's your name, stranger?"

"Kaoru Nagisa."  

Tabris smiled inwardly.  No, he was no longer Tabris.  He had been Tabris as the Seventeenth Angel, doing the work of the Lord.  He had used Kaoru's name as a shield, a defense against the suspicion of his human foes.  Now that he was fighting humanity's cause, the human name seemed more appropriate.

Kaoru Nagisa lived again.

Asuka looked like hell; there was no other way to describe it.  Her time on the run and in the infirmary had clearly not improved her condition at all; her skin was starting to look pale and waxy and her formerly lustrous hair had lost its sheen.  Were it not for the nearly imperceptible rise and fall of her chest and the metronomic _beep-beep-beep_ of the ECG by the bed, one could not have been blamed for mistaking her for a corpse on a mortuary slab.

"You're not looking very good today, Asuka," Shinji remarked in a conversational tone.  Asuka remained silent, her eyes closed, apparently sleeping peacefully.  Undeterred, and indeed seemingly oblivious to this fact, Shinji continued speaking.  "You know, if you could see yourself right now, you'd probably scream and shut yourself in the bathroom so that nobody could look at you."  

The infirmary was thankfully empty at this time; Asuka was the only patient and the nurse was taking a short break, on Shinji's assurances that he would remain in the room until she returned.  Shinji didn't know what an onlooker's response would have been to seeing Shinji carrying on a conversation with a catatonic patient, although at the moment he didn't care.

"I didn't think I'd ever say it, but it's honestly starting to seem a little lonely back at home without you," he went on.  "While you've been gone, I've had a lot of time to think about a few things: life, love, humanity, you know – and I've arrived at a few conclusions."

He reached out and took Asuka's hand.  It felt cold.  "First I thought you were crazy for wanting to kill yourself.  I couldn't understand why you'd want to do such a thing.  My only interest was staying alive until the war was over.  That changed when the Fifth Child got here.

"It's too bad you never met him, Asuka.  He was a fascinating person – somebody I could talk to and be comfortable around.  With you and Ayanami and Touji gone, that was what I really needed.  I think you might have liked him, although you'd probably argue a lot.  Kinda like the way you argued with me.

"Trouble was, he was thinking about life too, all the time.  Eventually he arrived at a conclusion of his own.  He wanted to die, but he couldn't do it by himself.  I had to help him."

Shinji began stroking her hair, faintly disgusted, yet saddened by its straw-like texture.  "I could help you too, you know.  It wouldn't take much; all I'd have to do is take the pillow and lean on your face with it.  It'd all be over, just like that."  Abruptly he straightened, releasing her.  "But I keep forgetting, you don't want anybody's help.  Except for that one time."

Leaning close, Shinji whispered in her ear, "Misato's not taking any of this very well.  Last night she was crying all over me.  Can you really imagine it?  I've only seen her do it one other time.  When I got here, she seemed so strong, just like you.  I guess everybody has a breaking point."  A tear started to roll down his face; angrily, he cuffed it away.  "Just come back to us, okay?  I don't know how much more of this any of us can take by ourselves."

Voices from the hall outside made him turn away from Asuka.  The door was slightly ajar, and so he could hear them clearly.  They were familiar.

"…sorry, Rei, I don't think Shinji wants to be interrupted right now."

"I came to speak to you, Major Katsuragi."

"Me?  Uh…" Misato seemed a little flustered, but swiftly regained her composure.  "Um… sure, what do you need?"

"I wish to know how I can speak to Pilot Ikari," Rei said simply.

"Shinji?  Can't you talk to him during work?"  From her tone, Misato was unsure what Rei was asking.  Actually, Shinji was sure that she knew _exactly_ what Rei was asking, and was merely trying to change the subject.  "I'd think it'd be easy to…"

"I do have opportunities to speak with Ikari," came Rei's even reply.  "What I do not know is what to say to him."

"What to say _to_ him?"  Misato was decidedly uncomfortable by now.  "Ah, well…"

"Why does Pilot Ikari not wish to speak to me?"  Rei pressed.  "Today he said that he feels uncomfortable around me.  I do not see why the fact that I saved…"

Shinji had heard enough.  Pushing the door open, he called, "I'm ready, Misato," loudly enough that Rei spun to face him, startled.

"Pilot Ikari…" she said, almost too softly to be heard.  The surprised expression on her face was immediately replaced with her usual emotionless mask; with a bow and an "excuse me," she walked away so quickly that Shinji felt slightly dizzy.

Shinji watched her go.  When Rei had left his sight, he turned back to Misato and found her looking at the floor with a troubled expression on her face.  "Misato?"

"I shouldn't feel like this," his guardian said, without looking up.  "I shouldn't feel relieved that you scared her away like that.  She was asking a perfectly honest question… but every time I see her I think of those… those _things_ in the tank and…" She shook her head, as if struggling to clear it, and, looking up, seemed to see Shinji for the first time.  "Let's go," she said abruptly, and started off down the hall, leaving a startled Shinji to run after her.

Their conversation remained on hold until they reached Misato's car, but by the time the Renault had hit the streets, Misato seemed ready to continue.  "You shouldn't have treated Rei like you did."

"I… what?" Shinji stammered, surprised by the unexpected angle to the conversation.

"Rei told me she made you uncomfortable," the Major replied, "but I'm sure that's not all that there is to the story, is there?  You scared her, got angry at her, _something_ to make her nervous – otherwise she would have tried to talk to you again instead of trying to go through me first."  Her eyes transfixed him.  "What happened?"

Misato took a corner at least twenty mph too fast, still with her eyes on him; Shinji's grip tightened on the door handle as she did so.  "I… I don't know," he muttered.  "I just can't look at her like I looked at the _old_ Rei."

"Are you going to treat her like she's not good enough for you, then?"  Misato countered, whipping around another corner.

"That's not the problem!"  Shinji protested, hanging on for dear life.  "Rei's dead!  But _she_ doesn't seem to realize it, and so she keeps trying to _act_ like she's still the original!  She acts as though I hadn't _noticed_ that she died, like she can fool me into believing that the fight with the Sixteenth hadn't happened!"  

Misato slowed down to a more reasonable speed as they neared the apartment.  Shinji continued, "I used to be annoyed with Asuka whenever she called Rei a 'doll'.  But now it seems like that's the only word that fits!  Father's little _doll_ got broken up into pieces, and now I'm supposed to put it back together again.  Why?  So that it can throw itself off another cliff the next time he wants it to!"

The car screeched to a halt before the apartments, and Misato looked at Shinji again, her expression unreadable.  "Are you angry at Rei, or at your father?" she asked.  

"I don't know," Shinji confessed.  "What's the point of being angry at a… a _tool_?"

Misato cocked her head as she pulled the keys from the ignition and pocketed them.  "And those months that you spent with Rei, being the only one who really talked to her, who tried to befriend her?  What about them?"

"I don't know," he said for a third time.  "I wish I could believe they were real, but I can't.  Not after she threw her life away like that.  Whenever I think about talking to her, I remember that any relationship I build with her will come in second to her devotion to my father.  It means _nothing_ if she'll throw it away without question just because _he_ orders her to."  Shinji looked at Misato sadly.  "When she died, I was horrified, but I was also… _joyful,_ somewhere inside.  I was happy that she cared enough about me to give her life for mine.  But then I realized that the sacrifice hadn't mattered, and everything we'd been through together suddenly became meaningless."  With a shake of his head, he opened the door and got out.  "I'm sorry, Misato, I was trying to be less depressing today."

Misato got out as well, still giving him the same unreadable look.  What was she thinking? Shinji wondered, hoping faintly that she wouldn't start shouting at him again.  To his relief, she waved a hand and said, "You did fine.  C'mon, let's go inside.  I'm sure we can find a movie or something to keep us occupied."

Shinji smiled.  "That sounds good."

"…and the other day my wife told me she didn't think it was fair that the Japanese had to fight this entire war by themselves.  I told her I didn't think it was fair that they got to have all the fun!"

As President Schroeder waited for the laughter to die down, Jason Lee fought to keep from yawning.  Between the warm sunlight and the anemic pace of the proceedings, the last-minute press conference was taxing his concentration to the limit.  

Mark Dillinger, Operations Director for NERV's First American Branch, noticed his discomfort and grinned.  "Keep your shirt on," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "It'll be over soon."

"Why do these things always take so _long?_"  Jason muttered.  "They're politicians, they're busy people!  I'd think they'd have better things to do than bore me to death."  Feeling another yawn coming on, he struggled to conceal it while still appearing interested in what was happening on the dais.  

"Special service," Dillinger replied, chuckling quietly.  "They want to pull out all the stops for you; it makes the entire affair seem even more important.  You know the Vice-President's always big on saving face in front of the world.  They just wouldn't _feel_ right if they didn't do something like this.  Now look sharp, you're supposed to look like you're raring to go save the planet."

Schroeder, meanwhile, was continuing his speech.  "It is with the greatest pride and respect for our duty that the United States of America send Evangelion Unit-06 to Japan.  In this, the most important war that humanity has ever fought, it is of critical importance that all those involved contribute to the common defense."

"Love the way he didn't mention sending _me_ over there," Jason remarked.  "Makes it sound like I'm expendable."

The speech went on, and Jason's attention began to waver again.  He looked out over the crowd in the audience.  Press reporters from every major newspaper in America, _Time,_ and _Newsweek_, VIPs from major corporations that NERV had contracted for the EVA-06 project, and various foreign dignitaries all comprised the sea of faces before him.  Most of them wore sunglasses.  Jason didn't like it when people wore shades; they made it impossible to tell what one was thinking, or even what they were looking at.  He preferred to look people in the eye.

His eyes fell upon Rachel, seated in the front row.  She wasn't wearing sunglasses, opting instead for a battered old Yankees baseball cap that shaded her face.  That didn't bother Jason as much; in any case, he didn't need to see Rachel's eyes to guess what she was thinking.  It was one of those emotional links that one develops with one's friends and intimates.

Rachel met his gaze, laughed, and stuck out her tongue.  Jason realized that his boredom must have been apparent even from the audience.  As he watched, Rachel crossed her eyes and began making faces at him.  He was about to give her the finger when he remembered that he was on live TV.  Rachel knew this too, of course, and was enjoying being able to bug him while he was unable to retaliate.  He made a mental note to come up with a suitably unpleasant way of getting back at her for this – then abruptly realized that he wouldn't have a chance for a long time.  This revelation caused an unpleasant twinge in Jason's stomach, and suddenly the idea didn't seem so funny anymore.

President Schroeder had finished his speech and stepped down from the podium, to the effusive applause of the onlookers.  A moment later the Vice-President, Andrew Kowalski, replaced him.  While the President was tall, reserved, and gave a grandfatherly impression to everybody who talked to him, Kowalski was perpetually joking and giggling, in addition to being a strong contender for the title of Fattest Man On Earth.  As he laboriously climbed to the podium, the impression he gave was more comical than anything.

"I had a nice long speech prepared for today, but I decided that it wouldn't be good form to bore you anymore," Kowalski began.  There was more laughter from the audience as Jason silently worshipped the Vice-President for this benevolent act.  "And so, without further ado, I think it's time that we introduced you to the pilot of Evangelion Unit-06, Sixth Child Jason Lee!"  He turned and beckoned to Jason, as though he were a talk-show host inviting a volunteer from the audience.

"Heeeeeeeere's _Jason_," Jason muttered as he stood and walked to the podium.

The President's speechwriter had given a couple of tips on what to say before the ceremony had begun.  "Just relax," she'd advised, "and try to be yourself.  They're not expecting you to recite the Gettysburg Address or anything, so just get up there and be brief – in the end it'll be easier on both you _and_ your audience.  The prevailing message of this ceremony is that we aren't going to let the fighting of this war be left up to the Japanese, so just show a little pride for your nation and you should be fine."

Of course, now that Jason was standing before an actual audience, those few words seemed less and less distinct.  Every eye was on him, even the ones behind sunglasses, and Jason suddenly found himself at a loss for words.  Silence settled over the assembly for a few seconds; when Jason finally spoke, the voice seemed to be coming from somebody else's mouth.  "I'd just like to say what an honor it is to have been selected for this duty.  Umm… When I was a kid I'd always dreamed of saving the world from aliens, and now I'm actually going to be able to do it!"  _Ah, hell,_ he thought, _might as well go for it…_  "I, ah, I know we've all been waiting for a chance to see somebody unleash some good old-fashioned American justice on those things, and I just want you all to know that I'm gonna be kicking ass for every one of you!"

The crowd erupted into laughter and cheers as Jason finished.  He snuck a glance to the side, half-expecting there to be people holding up _Applause_ signs.  Seeing none, he felt a little better.

Kowalski took the microphone from him.  "NERV is on a tight schedule, but we should have time for a couple of questions, if anybody would like to ask the Sixth Child something."

The sea of faces suddenly transformed into a sea of waving hands.  "Just point," Kowalski whispered in Jason's ear, "and they'll take care of the rest.  You're doing good so far; keep it up."

Jason nodded, took a deep breath, and pointed.  "You, over there."

He couldn't even tell to whom he was pointing, but the audience apparently could, because only one voice responded.  "How long have you been a pilot?"

_Thank God, an easy question.  _"I've been training with EVA-06 for almost a year now; NERV selected me only a couple of days after the war began."

"How do you feel about piloting the Evangelion?"

Jason shrugged.  "It's a weapon.  Honestly, I don't think it's too much different from a tank or a fighter jet.  It's actually easier; you have to learn how to fly a jet or drive a tank, but with an EVA, all you do is think about fighting."  He laughed.  "'Course, there is a little nervousness involved in piloting the most powerful weapon on the planet, but I think I can handle it, y'know?"

"Do you think you're prepared to travel to Japan?  What do you think it'll be like, being a newcomer amongst pilots who've been fighting this war for a year?"

"My only real concern right now is the language, but I'm thankful to say I had an excellent tutor, so I think I'll be able to communicate without embarrassing myself too much."  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rachel shaking her head and rolling her eyes.  She'd asked him to avoid mentioning her.  Well, he hadn't done it – at least not by name.  _So there,_ Jason thought, chuckling inwardly.  "As for working with experienced pilots… I think they'll realize that I can carry my own weight."  That was an out-and-out lie; all Jason could do at this point was hope that the pilots wouldn't take an immediate dislike to him.  There was no point in worrying about it now, though.

"Is your sister… available?"

Jason blinked.  _Where the hell do they come up with these questions?_  He snuck a glance at Rachel; apparently realizing that every camera was likely pointed at her now, she was doing her best to look amused rather than annoyed.  "Uh… I wouldn't want to speak for Rachel, so you'd have to ask her yourself," he said into the microphone, "but I wouldn't recommend it to anybody who values his continued breathing."  No longer concerned with the cameras, Rachel smiled broadly and gave Jason the finger as the audience laughed.  "Oh, and she's not my sister."

"What is your opinion of the recent buildup of UN troops related to allegations that NERV is planning to use the Evangelions in conventional war?"

"Uh…" _I knew the hard questions would star sooner or later_, Jason thought dismally.  "I just want it to be made clear that I'm going over to Tokyo-3 to fight the aliens, not humans."

"And if the UN were to attack you while you were there?" the reporter pressed.  "What would you do?"

_I'd fight back, of course,_ he thought, realizing as he did so that that was one of the worst answers he could give.  _Shit, now what do I do?_

He was saved as Vice-President Kowalski smoothly cut in.  "I'm afraid that we're out of time right now.  The plane will be leaving shortly; just rest assured that _all_ of your lives are safe in the hands of this boy."  With that, he steered Jason away from the podium and to the back of the stage.

"Aren't they going to be suspicious about you cutting them off like that?"  Jason asked as they walked down the stairs and onto the pavement.  

"That was a loaded question, I was just cutting our losses," Kowalski responded.  "Anyway, that was a great job you did up there.  I especially loved that part about Rachel.  No speech is really complete without a little bit of humor, right?"  He chuckled.

"Right," Jason answered, but the mention of Rachel had set off alarm bells in his mind.  "Uh, Vice-President Kowalski…"

"Yeah?"  The fat man stopped and looked at him, his eyes holding a questioning look.

"Could I talk to Rachel for a minute?  I know we're on a schedule, but…"

Kowalski smiled warmly.  "Already been taken care of," he said, gesturing ahead.

Jason followed his gaze across the tarmac.  A maintenance vehicle was pulling into position before the sleek black EVA carrier, and he saw Rachel's blond head (still wearing the old blue cap) among the figures that climbed out of it.

The Vice-President checked his watch.  "Still, as you say, we _are_ on a schedule.  What do you say we step it up a notch, eh?"

The two of them jogged the rest of the way to the carrier, Kowalski having slightly more difficulty than Jason.

"We've got five minutes until takeoff, Mr. Kowalski," a crewman informed the Vice-President as they arrived.

Jason ignored the rest of them and went straight for Rachel – who took off her cap and promptly smacked him with it.  "You bastard!  What are you doing, telling them to _ask_ me if I had a boyfriend?"

"Hey, hey!" Jason protested.  "I thought you could take care of yourself!"  He rubbed his head where she'd hit him.  "And watch it already, that hurt!"

"Good, serves you right," she said in mock anger.  

Jason's heart sank as he considered what was coming; nevertheless, he could only grit his teeth and get on with it.  "So, this is it…" he tried.

"What's this, Jason?  You getting all sentimental on me?" Rachel chided.  

Jason's smile was halfhearted.  "Well, I _am_ leaving, you know…"

Rachel's expression softened as she regarded him.  A moment later, though, she brightened again.  "Right, you're leaving.  And soon you'll be serving up 'American justice', and I'll hear about all your exploits and tell my friends 'I live with that guy!'"

"Lived," Jason corrected.  "I'm gonna be on the other side of the planet, remember?"

"Don't be like that."  Rachel stepped close and put her arms around him.  "When you come back, I'll still be there."

Jason returned the embrace.  "Yeah, but…"

"And don't even _think_ about getting killed over there."  Rachel interrupted without looking at him.

Jason sighed.  "Christ, you think of _everything_, don't you?"

"I know you too well," Rachel laughed.  They held each other in silence for a moment; finally she whispered, "I'll miss you.  You know that, don't you?"

"I know," Jason responded.  "I'll miss you, too."  He looked at her face and saw that she, like him, had tears in her eyes.  Without another word he kissed her and held her more tightly.

That moment seemed to slow down the way romantic moments always did in the movies, but it eventually ended.

There was a light tap on Jason's shoulder, and Dillinger said gently, "Jason, it's time."  The two broke away, each wiping their eyes and apologizing for the delay.  The Operations Director waved a hand dismissively.  "Don't worry, it's no problem at all."

Jason looked at Rachel, but she'd already turned away.  Finally he sighed and said, "Alright, let's go."

The two turned and walked to the ramp.  At its base, Dillinger stopped Jason and handed him a small folder.  "This has some information about the people you'll be working with, and some data on the enemies they've fought so far.  You've got a long flight ahead of you, so you may as well read it over."

"Got it."

The Vice-President saw they were ready and came over.  "Jason, I just want you to know that if there's anything you need, you can let me know.  I'll see that you get it."

"Yes, Mr. Vice-President."

Kowalski rolled his eyes.  "Just call me Andrew, Jason.  All my friends do."

"If you say so, Mr. – Andrew," Jason responded dully.

The VP noticed his look.  "Ah, and don't worry about Rachel.  We'll see she's taken care of."

"I wasn't lying before.  She can take care of herself."

"Self-reliance, eh?"  Kowalski laughed heartily.  "I respect that."  He leaned close and asked confidentially, "So, how _does_ she keep that figure?  Can you share with me any of her secret weight-loss tips?"

Dillinger interrupted Kowalski's attempt to lighten Jason's mood.  "Andrew, we _do_ have to get going."

The Vice-President snapped back to reality.  "Well, I'll just have to ask her myself, then!"  With a broad smile at Jason, he said, "Take care of yourself – and remember what I said.  Anything you need."  With that, he turned and strode back towards the milling reporters.

Dillinger clapped Jason on the back.  "Good luck out there, kid.  When you meet her, tell Major Katsuragi I said hello."  

As he climbed the ramp, Jason took one last look back at Rachel.  She was looking at him now, and seemed back to her usual cheerful self.  Waving enthusiastically, she shouted, "Bye, Jason!  Kick some ass for me, will you?"  The sight raised Jason's spirits.

"I'll send you a souvenir for every monster I kill," he promised.

Jason stepped into the carrier.  The ramp rose into place and the door slammed shut; Jason was left alone with the hum of the craft's engine as it prepared to bear him away from the only home he knew.

Gaining entry to the SEELE facility had proven to be easier than Azazel had expected.  Retinal scans, ID checks, and urinalyses all had gone off without a hitch.  None had questioned his identity, and, so far at least, no friends of Peter Harkov had attempted to strike up a personal conversation.  There was no indication that anyone suspected that the technician was anything other than who and what he claimed to be.  It had seemed almost too easy.  

Not one to let a little uncertainty deter him, Azazel had simply set about performing Harkov's duties as technician.  The task currently at hand, he discovered, involved making final combat adjustments to the Mass Production Series.  His current job was to oversee the welding of the Evangelions' white, fibrous armor to their bodies.

It was unsettling to work on the gargantuan beasts.  The knowledge that any one of the EVAs could single-handedly lay waste to the entire cavern and much of the city above was nearly as disturbing as the fact that the weapons, the _machines_, were composed of living, breathing flesh.  Even NERV's Evangelions were hideous, but there was something that seemed even more _wrong_ about these things.  Azazel supposed it was their faces.  The unnaturally lengthened heads were devoid of recognizable humanoid features of any kind, save for the perpetually leering mouths that, with nothing else to lend them emotion, gave the impression of a sadist tormenting his victim.

After six hours of toiling under their eyeless gaze, the fallen angel began to wonder about the mental state of SEELE's long-term employees.  Detached from the situation though he was, Azazel nevertheless could not shake the pervading sense of _wrongness_.  These abominations had been modeled on Adam's image, but the First Man's spark of divinity had been denied to them.  Soulless, they were nothing more than mindless engines of destruction.

Stretching, Azazel allowed himself a small smile.  That would soon change.

"All right, good work, people," he congratulated Harkov's crew.  "Double-check this plating for me, will you?  I'm going to go ahead and check on the last monster."

One of the other techs laughed.  "Right, we don't want to be delayed if Biotech screwed up."  Chuckling, he turned to one of his coworkers and went on, "Remember that time we stripped the armor off of MP-06 and found all these little tentacles growing underneath it?  Poor Anders nearly lost his…"

The crew erupted into laughter as Azazel walked away.  The Fallen allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction.  Joking would keep them occupied for a while longer than he had anticipated.  He would have all the time he needed to carry out his plan.  
The hulking form of MP-EVA-09 loomed above Azazel as he approached on the chest-level walkway.  Most of the Evangelion's armor was already in place; only the chest and abdomen plates still needed to be installed.  In the harsh light of the cavernous facility, its grotesquely perfect white teeth seemed to be set in an even wider grin than that of the others.  Azazel could almost _feel_ its gaze on him, mocking his arrogance.  _Come_, it seemed to say.  _Do your worst, I do not fear you_.

"I accept your challenge," Azazel told it as he arrived at the EVA's torso, "but I believe you have underestimated your opposition."

The weapon's body was a wall of glistening pink flesh, rippling periodically with involuntary twitches of the creature's massive muscles.  Barely visible, a network of blue veins pulsated just below the surface of the flesh.  Although the Evangelions were immobile without the activation of their S2 engines, here in the facility they looked like nothing so much as caged beasts, the combined efforts of SEELE's engineers barely restraining them from launching into a rampage of destruction and death.  Soon they would know what it was like to have their beasts slip their bonds.

Azazel removed one of his latex technician's gloves and, without hesitation, placed his palm against the undulating surface.  Mere physical contact, he knew, would not be enough to serve his purpose, and so he willed his mind into a state of calm, tuning out the outside world and focusing only upon himself and the being that he touched.

His perception of himself as a physical being began to fade, leaving in its place an increased awareness of his soul, of the being that was Azazel; he saw himself as a contradiction, a being as proud of his individuality as he was to carry the standard of a group.  Azazel saw this, and accepted it as truth.  

Other technicians would have observed Azazel's bare hand gradually growing faint and incorporeal.  With a faint hum, the fallen angel's ghost-hand pressed into the Evangelion's body, gloving itself to the elbow in the creature's flesh.

Azazel detected the Evangelion's presence, not as another being, but as a void.  Rather than being a conscious soul, MP-EVA-09 was a black hole, a vortex of nothingness, existing only to draw outside material into itself.  Azazel felt the EVA's pull on his consciousness, an inexorable tugging sensation, calling him to spiral into the void.  He knew the dangers of giving in to the call.  Although surrender would not destroy him, as he spun into the vortex he would lose himself, becoming less and less his own being and progressively more a part of the Evangelion.

That was Azazel's plan, and the riskiest part of his operation.  To give a part of himself to the abominations while retaining most of his soul for himself; that was his goal.  He was close, he knew, as he felt the vortex pull more insistently at his being.  Attempting briefly to withdraw, to become himself again, he noted with grim satisfaction that the vortex held him trapped in limbo between itself and the world outside.  There was only one thing left to do.

Making an escape, trapped as he was, was impossible; the Evangelion's grip on his soul was too strong.  And so Azazel's soul began to stretch and tear, like an ensnared animal gnawing off its own leg to ensure its own escape.  As the small portion of himself gave way, excruciating mental agony seared through Azazel.  Past, present, future, and memory warped and distorted, then snapped back into place, sending miniature shockwaves through his mind.  Somewhere, the fallen angel's soul was screaming…

…and then he was lying on the maintenance catwalk, his hand solid and outside of the monster's body once again.  The sound of pounding footsteps came ever closer, and as they did, the confused jumble of thoughts in Azazel's mind struggled to reorder itself.  _Get up, stand, act normal,_ a voice desperately warned, and so, without knowing why, Azazel complied.  Men were all around him, concern clearly written on their faces, asking if he was all right.  _Must get out,_ he realized.  Faintly he heard a voice say, "I think I need some air," and understood that it was his own.  The men parted, giving him room to leave.  His feet acted of their own accord, bearing him out of the facility and onto the street above.  

Three blocks away he finally collapsed against the side of a McDonald's.  The searing pain had begun to abate, and with its passing Azazel found himself able to think more clearly.  The soulless Evangelions were a vacuum.  The fragment of Azazel's soul that had been ripped away now resided within MP-EVA-09.  It would remain dormant until the creature was awakened, at which point it would diffuse into the dummy plug, and, through it, into the other eight Evangelions.

Although it would take time to observe the results of his labor, Azazel's mission had been successful.  The Mass Produced Evangelions had been corrupted.

_Tokyo-3,_ the voice piped up once again.  Azazel understood what it meant.  Resolution written in his eyes, he pulled himself to his feet once again and began to walk, leaving SEELE's maintenance facility far behind him.

It was a number of factors, Subcommander Kozo Fuyutsuki had decided, that made the Commander's office seem so intimidating.  For one, it was the length of the room.  The office was at least twice as long as it needed to be.  Entering the office at one end, visitors had to walk nearly its full length to reach Gendo Ikari's desk.  All the while, they knew that the Commander's gaze was on them, measuring them as they approached.  Their view, on the other hand, was incomplete, as the windows silhouetted the Commander.  The red tinted glass made his form hazy and indistinct, making him seem ghostly and ethereal, somehow more than human.  Then there was the Tree of Life etched upon the ceiling.  Those who did not know its meaning saw it merely as a vaguely disturbing occult symbol.  Those who did also knew what they were doing by following its path: walking from Earth to Heaven, becoming divine.  

Although Fuyutsuki knew his former student never allowed such insignificant things to affect his judgment, he was fully aware that Commander Ikari knew well their effects on others.  Fuyutsuki was accustomed to the environment by now, but, even after the years of working with the Commander, he still felt that faint discomfort around him.

Fuyutsuki pushed the minor concern from his mind as he moved a bishop into position to strike Gendo's king.  Right now he had larger problems on his mind.

"The United Nations and SDF forces will strike soon," he warned.  "Tomorrow morning, at the earliest, two days from now at the latest.  The Sixth Child will be arriving tomorrow; they'll want us out of the way before we can use EVA-06 against them."

Gendo gave no indication that he'd heard his subordinate, instead merely moving a pawn to block the bishop's assault.  This also revealed a discovered attack in which Gendo's queen could eliminate Fuyutsuki's remaining rook.

Unfazed, Fuyutsuki continued with his assessment of the situation.  "The combined land and air power of the SDF will be easily sufficient to break through our stationary defenses; there will be nothing we can do to forestall their advance.  Our emergency security measures will prevent immediate penetration of the Geofront and the upper levels of HQ, but those will be only a temporary measure.  An N2 mine will suffice to break through the armor plating and into the Geofront, and we have no defense against that manner of attack."  Fuyutsuki moved the rook out of the way, placing the king, once again, in check.

Gendo grunted, although whether it was in response to the game or Fuyutsuki's report was unclear.  Immediately the king was moved to safety, placing the queen directly in the rook's line of fire.

Fuyutsuki took the queen, his elation at his success tempered by a sense of foreboding.  "SEELE's forces need EVA-01 on the surface to implement their plan.  That means either launching it or penetrating into Central Dogma.  Naoko's countermeasure will prevent them from using the Magi to launch it remotely, although a manual launch is still possible from within.  We are prepared to place it under lockdown to prevent such an eventuality.  However, that does nothing to account for the 05-Series, which will be able to enter the cages in the same manner employed by the Fourteenth Angel, albeit slower."  He regarded Gendo grimly.  "The defense is hopeless."

"Have a little faith, Kozo," Gendo spoke at last.  As he did so, he moved a knight to fork-attack the Subcommander's king and bishop.  "We need only delay the attackers."

The Subcommander resignedly moved the king and watched glumly as Gendo took the bishop.  "We still need time.  What are you waiting for, Gendo?  You have all that you need to achieve instrumentality now!"  He punctuated this by slamming the rook onto the board hard enough that the pieces jumped.  Gendo was once again in check.

"Patience," the Commander chided.  "It would not do to seize victory without allowing them to think that they've secured it, would it?"  He moved the king once again; another discovered attack from his bishop pinned the offending rook to Fuyutsuki's own king.

Fuyutsuki slid the king out of harm's way.  "Be sure that that doesn't go both ways, Gendo."

The Commander's other knight captured a pawn.  "Call the Third Child in to NERV tomorrow morning.  When the attack begins, launch Unit 01 to intercept."

"What?"  Fuyutsuki stared in disbelief.  "Ikari, you're handing their weapon _to_ them!  What will Shinji do against the 05-series?  Even _he_ can't stand against them all!"

"Yui will protect him."

"You can't count on that!"  Standing, Fuyutsuki began to pace the room.  "And what of Shinji himself?  After what he's been through, do you think he'll simply say 'yes, sir' and use that thing in combat again?  Against other _people_, no less?"

The Commander rose to his feet as well, looking his onetime teacher squarely in the eye.  "He will fight, if he sees what will happen when he refuses."  He looked down at the chessboard.  "Checkmate," he observed.

Fuyutsuki saw that Gendo spoke the truth and swore.  "Take care that your arrogance doesn't get us all killed, Gendo."

The other laughed and, in an all-too-familiar gesture, pushed his tinted glasses back into position.  "When the scenario is fulfilled, my arrogance will harm no one.  Nothing will prevent that from happening."

Author's Notes

Hello, readers.  I'd like you to meet this guy I know named Shinji.  Shinji, these are the readers.  Shinji, readers; readers, Shinji.  Oh, so you know each other already?  Good!  Well, now that the introductions are out of the way, we've been able to actually get the ball rolling on the story.

This marks my first attempt at interaction between canon characters of an anime series (except for some crappy DBZ thing that I scribbled out back when I was young and intellectually vulnerable and thought DBZ was cool).  I'd like to think that I got the dialogue and development to flow pretty naturally, given everything that Misato and Shinji have been through.  Actually, the first scene with both characters was one of the easiest to write; I got it out in a little over an hour.  Maybe I just thrive off of others' pain…

A hearty "thank ya kindly" to Akodo Tim and Hiryu, who both pointed out the inconsistencies that would have confused the lot of you.  If you're all still following the story so far without too much head-scratching, it means they're doing their job.  If not… that probably means I shouldn't have decided that I knew better than them.  -_-

Same drill applies now as before; read, review, and be helpful.  Or read, rave mindlessly, and be ignored; it's your choice, after all.  Thanks to those who have reviewed so far… (what?  No complaints?  Damn, this is going to go to my head real fast…)

Chapter 2 preview:  The first intricacies of the Fallen plan begin to come fully into play, leaving both NERV and SEELE reeling.  Azazel and Kaoru meet face-to-face and "discuss" the recent turn of events, while Shinji finds himself once more thrust into the battlefield, unaware of the cosmic struggle that is once again unfolding around him…

Until next time.


	3. Chapter 2: Complications, Bearings

2 – Unexpected Complications – Getting One's Bearings

If there had actually been air within the darkness of the SEELE council chamber, it would have been charged with avid anticipation.

"We are certain of this, then?" SEELE-05 asked, suspicion plainly evident in his voice. "The attack will not fail?"

SEELE-02 responded in a reassuring tone. "NERV has no chance to resist us. We know its external defenses inside and out, and they have nothing that will resist a protracted assault."

"Nothing?" SEELE-09 interjected. "It seems to me that you've made one rather startling omission in that assessment, Number Two."

As he listened to the exchange, Keel pushed the imaging visor up onto his forehead and rubbed his sightless eyes with a sigh. Their triumph was now _truly_ at hand. This bickering was pointless. Had the members of the council no faith at all?

Still, he considered as he replaced the visor, as their victory was assured, there was no harm in allowing the doubters to maintain their skepticism. They would see the truth in the end and would recognize the rightness of his – of the _council's_ – actions.

"Even if Evangelion Unit-01 is deployed, we have the Mass Produced EVAs on our side," SEELE-02 continued in a soothing tone. "NERV has no defenses that will resist our attack. Nothing short of an act of God will stop us now."

This seemed to satisfy the dissenters, as neither spoke up again. The silence hung over the chamber like a shroud for a minute before SEELE-10 chuckled and said, "So, after everything we've come through, we're _finally_ ready to begin." He paused, considering, before amending his statement, "Or perhaps, ready to finish? To reach the end of this road we've traveled?"

"Indeed," Keel spoke at last. "It has been years since we first set out on this path, and within a few hours we will reach its end. Ikari had hoped to defeat us, but we hold more power than he can imagine. And soon," he said, his voice rising as if delivering a sermon, "he will _know_ his failure. He will be the first of our foes to truly know our wrath."

There were murmurs of agreement from the circle. Keel smiled.

"Today, Ikari… Today the gates of Hell will be opened unto you. Today you die."

( >)

"What do you mean, we're under attack?" Shinji demanded, incredulous. "I thought Kaoru was the last one!"

"The attack isn't coming from an Angel, Shinji," Misato tried to explain. "They're humans."

This brought Shinji up short. "What…" His mind reeled momentarily, trying to reconcile what he'd just heard with what he knew. "That's… but… I mean…" Words failed him; the utter nonsensicality of the situation, of humanity repaying its own saviors with destruction, made every possible question seem ultimately meaningless. When at last he had recovered sufficiently to express a complete thought, it took the form of one word, the only one that made sense: "Why?"

His guardian sighed, shaking her head. "I don't know, Shinji. I don't understand much of this myself. Somebody out there is afraid of us; apparently, they think we're going to use the EVAs to dominate the world. I don't know where they found the support, but the United Nations and the SDF are working together. And they're coming here with tanks and VTOLs." The look in her eyes wavered somewhere between resolve and regret as she regarded him. "I'm sorry, Shinji."

"You're…" Shinji blinked, uncomprehending. "You're… _sorry?_" Abruptly the meaning behind Misato's words sank in; still struggling to recover from the initial shock, he was taken off-guard once again. This… this couldn't be right. He was _done_. The Angels were all dead. He wasn't _supposed_ to have to hurt people any more!

His anger flared as he remembered his rude awakening earlier that morning. At 5 AM, Misato had literally pulled him out of bed and thrown a set of clothes at him, saying that they had to leave. No longer even attempting to maintain the cheery façade she'd tried to hold all through the previous day, her manner had become at once cold and businesslike. "Your father wants you at headquarters immediately," had been her curt reply when Shinji had asked what was going on.

Predictably, his father hadn't even acknowledged his presence upon their arrival at the bridge. Shinji had been told to stay at the entrance to Central Dogma while Misato spoke to the Commander. He'd done as ordered; after all, it would save him from having to look at his father.

But after all that, _this_ was why they'd brought him here? So that he could go out in the EVA again and _kill_ people? This was insane. It was a bad joke. It had to be. It…

_No,_ he thought. _This entire situation is ridiculous. I don't know why you people think you can just move me around like a piece on a chessboard, but I'm sick of playing your game for you. Just watch me; this is over…_

His outraged response died in his throat as his eyes focused on Misato's face. The set of her mouth was grim; to that extent, at least, she was acting as his superior, as NERV's Operations Director issuing orders to a pilot. Her teeth weren't clenched, her hands were relaxed… she looked to be giving the instructions with a commander's cool detachment.

That wasn't what interested Shinji.

His eyes met Misato's, and, in that split second, more was communicated between them than had been exchanged verbally all morning.

He revised his earlier analysis: the look in her eyes wasn't regret.

It was heartbreak.

_I'm sorry, Shinji… believe me, please; don't hate me for this…_she seemed to say, half convinced that, in the face of this betrayal of trust, nothing she said would prevent him from doing so.

In that moment, his mind was made up.

He cocked his head and looked at her for a moment before speaking, an odd smile beginning to cross his face. "I guess I should go suit up, huh?"

"Shinji, I know how you…" Misato trailed off, then did a double take as she realized that Shinji hadn't refused. "You… what?"

Shinji lowered his voice until he was sure that nobody else in the command center could hear him. "There's no real point in trying to fight it," he told her, "my father already has a way to shame me into it. After all, there's still people living up there, right?" Misato nodded. Shinji shrugged his helplessness. "Can't just _leave _them to die, can I? Since there's nothing either of us can do, we may as well just… go with it."

It seemed that Misato was unsure whether to laugh or cry over Shinji's analysis of their situation, and instead settled for looking slightly dazed. Shinji could sympathize with that; things were changing too quickly for his mind to keep up with them. There would be time to think later; for now the only option was to go with the flow and keep moving. "Will Ayanami be using Asuka's EVA?" he asked her at last.

"The First Child will not be participating in this battle." His father's voice carried down to them from the dais. Surprised, Shinji looked up at him. Gendo Ikari's gaze was fixed directly ahead; apart from his answer to Shinji's question, he still gave no indication that he realized his son was in the room.

Another day Shinji would have asked for an explanation (and would have been reprimanded by his father in response); today he merely nodded, as though he'd expected this answer from the beginning. "I'll get ready, then." With that, he turned and headed for the locker rooms, leaving the bridge behind him.

( >)

Kaoru awoke with a start. Something was wrong.

He and his three companions had fallen asleep in the same alley where they had taken shelter the previous night, and now the buildings that had originally hidden them from rain served to hide them from the sun, shrouding the alleyway in shadow. Blinking, Kaoru looked to the street. The previous night's rain clouds had blown over, and sunlight now glinted off of glass windows and polished steel. Judging by the length of the shadows, it was somewhere between seven and eight o'clock in the morning. He hadn't overslept – at least, not significantly.

Kaoru turned his gaze back to the alley, noting the huddled forms of the three others. The old man's snores reached his ears, and Kaoru smiled as he scanned the rest of their refuge. Just the four of them; nobody had wandered off in the night, and nobody had arrived undetected. That wasn't the problem, either.

With a concerned frown, he closed his eyes and focused his thoughts inward. _Adam?_ he speculated. If, for some reason, the First Angel were to call him once again, he would be hard pressed to resist. After a few tense seconds, Kaoru relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. There was nothing. Adam had no hold over this body.

Abruptly his eyes shot open in shock. There was another sound, a different one.

Unlike the soft, mournful melodies of Adam and Lilith, this sound was unchanging: a dull, rumbling hum. It slowly rose in volume and intensity; as it did so, Kaoru felt the rumbling vibration rise from the ground, sending an uncomfortable tingling through his body.

At once, he jumped to his feet. Could it be?

His heart pounding, Kaoru ran to the street and looked.

It was like watching a swarm of locusts. He recognized the dull sound now. They were engines. A horde of engines, a wall of VTOLs and tanks that were even now beginning to work their way over the outskirts of the city.

As Kaoru watched, another sound reached his ears – a rhythmic rattling that came and went in intermittent bursts. Machine-gun fire. After a moment, he heard the sound of fireworks. Even at this distance, he could see accompanying clouds of flame and dust. A third sound came to him, high-pitched and ghastly.

Human screams. They were shelling the buildings in which the citizens had camped.

"No," he breathed.

They were attacking? Now? They were coming to kill them. To kill him.

"No," he said again, his tone carrying a note of determination.

No. Not yet.

Kaoru whirled and dashed back into the alley, to his sleeping companions. "Wake up!" he shouted. Grabbing the younger man by the arms, he shook him violently until he stirred, then moved on to the woman. "Get up, we have to leave! Now!"

By the time Kaoru reached the old man, he'd already opened his eyes and was climbing to his feet, looking at Kaoru in bewilderment. "What? What's going on?" he asked.

"It's the UN," Kaoru informed him. "They're trying to occupy the city." When the others didn't seem to grasp his meaning he urgently added, "They're killing the people. We need to move immediately."

"W…why?" the younger man asked. "Why are they doing this?"

"Because…" Kaoru began, but caught himself. Feigning helplessness, he instead responded with a simple lie. "I don't know." Without waiting for a reply from the others, he strode quickly to the street. He knew that, until they grasped the reality of the situation, the others would stand and ask questions until the soldiers overwhelmed them. "We can talk while we move. Come on!"

The VTOLs had begun to fan out over the city, ensuring that the local threats would be neutralized before the tanks arrived. Some of the aircraft were now close enough that Kaoru could see the UN logos emblazoned on their sides. _That's too close,_ Kaoru realized. "Run!" he yelled desperately.

Even as the others came to their senses and began running, a lone VTOL broke formation and began to approach at high speed.

"Head for the next alley!" Kaoru called. "We can move through to the next block from there!"

Kaoru ran, and out of the corner of his eye he could see the others alongside him. But… He risked a look back and came to a dead stop at what he saw.

The woman had stopped at the mouth of their shelter and was now staring, wide-eyed, at the approaching VTOL. Almost as if the situation had been scripted for drama, the VTOL in turn slowed and rotated to face her.

By now the men had looked back and realized what was going on. "Chisato!" the younger one screamed helplessly.

Kaoru was already running as the machine gun fire began. The woman at least had the presence of mind to duck back into the alleyway where they'd slept, evading the initial burst of fire. Even now, though, the VTOL was realigning itself, correcting its aim to face down the alley. Anyone inside would have no chance… and Kaoru still had ten meters to go.

"Run! Get out of there!" he screamed as he closed the distance.

Her eyes wild with fear, the woman named Chisato did as instructed; she stepped back into the street just as Kaoru reached her. He tackled her at full speed, knocking her from her feet. Locking his arms around her, Kaoru rolled to the side, away from the alley and the VTOL's line of sight. He heard the engine's thrumming rise in pitch as the craft rotated once again to draw a bead on its target.

Knowing that the enemy would open fire again at any second, Kaoru scrambled to his feet. Grabbing Chisato's hand, he pulled urgently, trying to get her to start running again. "Hurry, get up!" he entreated.

The woman seemed dazed by her brush with death, and evidently didn't hear him. Unwilling to wait for her, Kaoru gathered her into his arms and began running. She didn't protest, holding onto his neck as if her life depended on it.

He didn't get far, though. A powerful blast of air sent them tumbling once again. Kaoru struck the ground face-first and half-skidded, half-rolled to a halt. Through a red haze he could see the VTOL hovering only a few feet off the ground, the exhaust from its vertical jets creating a miniature hurricane around it. Satisfied that its target had been temporarily incapacitated, the craft lifted off and backed up to a location further up the street.

"Keep moving!" somebody yelled. With an effort Kaoru turned his head and saw his other companions running back to them. They were in the middle of the street, unprotected.

He realized what the VTOL crew was going to do a second before the plane began to move. As he watched, it angled its nose downward and began picking up speed towards them like a charging bull, its cannons spraying the ground across the ever-decreasing distance between them. It was going to strafe them, picking them all off while they were in the open.

_It can't end yet,_ he thought. If he died now, what would have been accomplished? He had fled the Host, angered many of them, possibly even angered the Creator, and for what? So that he could be killed by the very people he'd been trying to contain?

Kaoru's brief moment of self-reproach was shattered by a high-pitched electronic tone. At first he stared in mild confusion at the tiny clouds of dust, bullet impacts, that were walking inexorably closer. A moment later, as the tone repeated, he realized what it was. Amazingly, his face broke into a smile, even as he watched the approaching gunfire.

In a sudden burst of energy, Kaoru jumped to his feet. To the consternation of his companions, he ignored the VTOL completely, turning to face the length of the street.

With a _whoosh_, a section of pavement not fifty feet from where Kaoru was standing slid open, and a pair of metal launch rails shot into position.

The gunfire stopped abruptly.

One moment there was nothing there, and in the next Evangelion Unit-01 had materialized before them in a purple blur of motion.

The VTOL sailed over their heads, its braking jets howling in a desperate effort to avert its impending collision with the obstacle in its path. Events seemed to shift into slow motion as the aircraft drew closer and closer, finally twisting as its pilots belatedly realized they could circle around the EVA…

…and then the VTOL struck EVA-01's chest plating with a sharp _clang_, bouncing harmlessly off the armor. After a brief battle to remain airborne, the craft stabilized, hanging motionless, as if stunned, before the newcomer.

The old man cackled. "Ha! Bet those flyboys are pissing themselves _now!_"

Kaoru faced the others, the smile still on his face and widening by the second. "Let's give our friend a little room, shall we?" They needed no further convincing after the chaos of the past minute.

As their footfalls bore them down the street, away from EVA-01 and their tormentor, Kaoru gave one final look back. He wasn't concerned that the VTOL might resume chase. Instead, he was simply savoring all he could of a sight he once thought he'd never see again.

_Good luck, Shinji._

( >) _  
_

_Why am I here? I've asked this question before. I never have an answer. Not one that's good enough, at least. Always, the reason is too thin, too shallow to matter. Or it's simply an excuse for me _not_ to resist piloting. I hate this machine, and yet I keep coming back to it._

_So, why am I here? What's my excuse _this_ time?_

Shinji watched the VTOL hovering before him, his mind distanced from his present situation. He was here to pilot the EVA. He was here to fight. He was here to kill people, people like those before him now.

_Why?_

His eyes fell on the four tiny figures running frantically down the street, away from the battle that they knew was coming.

_I fight to protect them. That's what I told Misato. That's good enough, isn't it?_

He reached out and plucked the craft from the air with one massive hand. He raised it to his eyes, regarding it for a moment as though it were a curious toy.

_That's a good excuse. For now._

With that, Shinji nodded grimly and tore the VTOL's tail from its fuselage. Stretching, he placed the crippled aircraft on the roof a nearby building. _There,_ he thought. _That should keep you from following them._

His first opponent defeated, Shinji turned to face the body of the assault force. The VTOLs began to circle around him, like hunters warily closing in on a wounded lion.

_But how long can this excuse survive?_

In unison they opened fire. Shinji instinctively raised his AT field, and the surrounding air was dotted with tiny orange hexagonal patterns as the bullets were deflected. Paying the continuing gunfire no heed, Shinji strode past the aircraft, towards the approaching wall of tanks. He was aware of continued gunfire at his back; the VTOLs were pursuing him rather than hunting for civilians.

_It has to survive. If I'm not in this thing to save lives, then what am I here for?_

_Uh-huh. Just keep telling yourself that, Shinji. We'll see who runs out of steam first._

He switched to the external voicelink. "I know you can hear my voice," he shouted. "I want… You must…" He trailed off, realizing that he didn't know what he wanted, or why the UN had to leave. What was he going to say? Finally he resumed, assuming a slightly different course. "Killing our people will not be tolerated. You will leave immediately, and you won't be hurt. I can't guarantee your safety if you remain."

The tanks responded with a volley of cannon fire. These shells, too, detonated harmlessly against his AT field without causing damage.

"You can't hurt me!" he shouted at them. "This is pointless! Leave!" The barrage of shells continued.

Then Shinji happened to glance down a side street.

There was blood. Dead bodies. People who had already been killed in the fighting. Their faces were all too small to be seen, but Shinji could feel their eyes on him, begging him for support…

_Well, I guess you were right. You do need to protect the people. Too bad you're too slow to do the job right._

Begging for help…

_I can't save them all… I know that. _

Begging for retribution.

_Don't I?_

_Do you?_

Shinji would remember what happened next, but would remember no purpose behind his action.

Absently, almost lazily, he waved a hand. The AT field unfolded, spreading outward at high speed and with near-unstoppable force. Tanks and aircraft alike were sent flying hundreds of meters. Glass windows shattered; VTOLs fell to earth in fiery streaks, sending columns of billowing smoke into the air.

Everything seemed to stop at that moment. The remaining tanks, the VTOLS, and the Evangelion all remained in place. It was as though the god of war had called a time-out.

As one, the surviving attackers turned and fled the city, abandoning the territory they had already captured.

_Well, I guess you _are_ good for something._

_Yes. I'm good at destroying things. My talent._

_Too bad you hate it so much._

Movement in the streets below pulled his attention downward, where he once again saw a group of running civilians. This time, however, they were running towards him, waving and shouting something.

The pounding of his pulse in his ears subsided and he gradually became aware of the sounds around him for the first time since launch. They swirled about him: the howling of the wind, the crackling of fires, and the dim sound of Misato's voice on the commlink asking "Shinji? Shinji, are you there?" Above them rose another sound.

Voices cheering. Human voices, shouting "Yeah!" and "All right, EVA! Kick their asses!"

_At least somebody understands what you do._

_Leave me alone,_ Shinji snapped at the nagging voice.

_Suit yourself._

( >) _  
_

"Shinji? Shinji, are you there?" Major Katsuragi's voice carried a note of intense worry that infected all on the bridge with her, except one.

Gendo Ikari watched the readouts as the short-lived battle drew to a close. Most had gasped with shock as the digital tags identifying the individual SDF units were blasted backwards, away from EVA-01. That was followed by nervous silence, as the crew strained for any response from the Evangelion's pilot. Had something gone wrong? they must have been wondering. Had the EVA somehow been destroyed and the readouts weren't functioning correctly? The unspoken questions were written on the anxious faces of everyone present, except for that of Gendo Ikari.

Ikari knew there was no need for concern. His plan had been revised slightly, it was true, but all possible complications had been anticipated. It was time.

"Soon, Yui," he spoke to the embryonic form of Adam, grafted onto his right hand. "Very soon."

Katsuragi turned to Makie Akiyama, Maya's replacement on the bridge. "What's Shinji's status?"

Akiyama responded without looking up, her eyes glued to the screen. "All vital signs are stable. Sync ratio is holding at 81 percent."

"Damn it," the Major muttered. "Shinji!" she called again. "Shinji, answer me! Shinji?"

Tense silence. Then, finally, came the sound of Shinji's voice, the sound of perfect composure: "I'm here, Misato. It's alright. The enemies are retreating. Mission accomplished."

A collective sigh of relief rose from the bridge crew. A confident half-smile crossed Gendo's face, unseen by the others. The Third Child's performance had exceeded even his own high expectations.

Well, there was no sense in wasting the lull in the action. Gendo rose to his feet. "The enemy forces may be regrouping for another assault," he told Katsuragi. "Instruct the Third Child to remain on guard against further attacks." As the Major relayed the order, Gendo spoke to Fuyutsuki in a low voice. "It's time, Kozo. You have the con."

Without waiting for Fuyutsuki's response, he strode from the bridge, leaving the battle behind him.

_Soon._

( >) _  
_

"Evangelion Unit-01 has launched. All units close and terminate."

"Fire!"

"What the hell… this is useless, nothing can hit that thing!"

"What's it doing? What the…"

"Oh my god…"

"Forty percent of the assault force has been incapacitated. All units retreat. Fall back to the outer perimeter."

"Target has reached the surface; attack phase one complete. Initiating phase two."

"Carrier wing, assume delta formation and prepare to deploy payload."

( >)

Gendo strode quickly through the darkened hallways, effortlessly navigating the maze of corridors that honeycombed the Geofront. His plan allowed for some wasted time, but there was no sense in taking chances. Not now. Not when Instrumentality was within his grasp.

_We will be reunited, you and I,_ he thought, a faint smile playing about his mouth. He remembered Yui as vividly as always. Her face, her warm smile, her soft, caring eyes… Eleven years ago he'd made a lover's promise. Now was the time to fulfill it.

_This was your dream, Yui. SEELE's arrogance made you see its necessity, and now it falls to me to make that dream a reality. Yes, we'll be reunited, and together we'll have the world once more. We'll reclaim the future they stole from us._

Gendo took a lift to the lowest level of NERV HQ, and stepped out into Terminal Dogma. The hallways here were dark, with lights only every fifty feet or so. Terminal Dogma was his cave, a dark haven to which Gendo would retreat when the world outside proved too taxing.

_See what I have fallen to without you?_ Gendo thought with wry amusement.

Heaven's Door loomed out of the darkness ahead. Rei would meet him here, and his goal would be realized at last.

Gendo stopped short not twenty feet from the door.

There was a man waiting for him.

( >)

"Approaching drop zone. ETA: 15 seconds."

The wedge-shaped EVA carriers thundered through the sky over the outskirts of Tokyo-3. Their pilots could see Evangelion Unit-01 far below, looking like a child's plastic mecha toy in a model city. Had they looked closer, they would have seen EVA-01 crane its neck upwards, watching them with the same mixture of distrust and fascination that they themselves felt.

"Drop zone reached. Carrier wing, begin deployment of 05-Series EVAs on my mark. Three… Two… One… Mark."

From below, the Mass Produced Evangelions were visible as white figures clinging to their hosts like gigantic parasites. One of them now began to move independently of its carrier, pulling its oversized head free from the plane's inner recesses and freefalling towards the city, a double-bladed sword in its hand.

"MP-EVA-01 is away."

The next one followed suit, joining its brother in plummeting to the earth.

"MP-EVA-02 is away."

As the others followed, those that were already airborne began to spread their wings and fly, wheeling lower and lower, drawing ever closer to the city below.

"…EVA-05 is away. MP-EVA-06 is away."

The growing flock of EVAs began circling, vulture-like, above the head of EVA-01, looking like a choir of twisted angels in the sunlight. Still they continued to descend.

"…07 is away. MP-EVA-08 is away."

There was a pause.

"…MP-EVA-09 is not responding. Re-inputting activation signal…"

( >)

Shinji watched the white Evangelions with something akin to dread. It wasn't simply the way their approach put one in mind of circling carrion birds. No, what bothered Shinji was a vague sense of déjà vu. Awaiting the arrival of the enemy, waiting to get a look at it, and suddenly coming to the horrifying realization that it was, in fact…

"Misato," he asked, "what are they?"

There was a brief hesitation on the other side, and then Misato informed him in a shaky voice, "They're the Evangelions of the Mass Production Series, Shinji. The 05-Series. The UN has been working on them for over a year now." Shinji finally looked at Misato's face on the display; she wouldn't look him in the eye. "They're… the enemy, Shinji." Evidently she had just recalled the same unpleasant memory as him.

_So, how far are you willing to go, Shinji? We've been here before. We remember what happened last time, don't we? Poor, poor Touji…_

_I… I can't do this again. I won't do this another person._

_You said that last time, too. Look where it got you._

_No! I'll kill myself first!_

_Roll over and die. Brilliant strategy. You'll save a lot of people that way, I'm sure._

The eight Evangelions landed heavily around him, blocking the streets and his avenue of escape. They wore identical leering grins, mocking him for his weakness.

_What can I do… what can I do…?_

One of the EVAs raised its blade and purposefully strode forward.

Unexpectedly, Subcommander Fuyutsuki's face materialized on the HUD. "Shinji, there are no pilots in those EVAs!"

"Don't expect me to believe that!" Shinji snapped angrily. "How else are they moving?"

"Shinji, they're all being run by a machine! They're dummy plugs, like when you… like when the 13th Angel was destroyed," he finished. "Shinji, you have to fight back. Do _not_ let them defeat you! That's an order!"

"Dummy plugs…" Shinji whispered, his eyes fixed on the enemy.

"Just trust me. It is imperative that you not be defeated. Fight!"

The attacking EVA broke into a run, bringing its sword down in a vertical chop at Shinji's head as it passed.

The blade met only air. At the last second Shinji had sidestepped the blow. Now, as the white opponent skidded to a halt and brought itself about for another pass, Shinji quickly closed the distance and grabbed its elongated head near the base, where its neck would have been. He regarded the eyeless face for a second; the hideous smile parted slightly and a rumbling groan emerged. It didn't look even remotely human.

_A dummy plug_.

With that silent acknowledgement, Shinji drew back his fist and drove it into the leering mouth with all his might. He felt a faint crunching sensation under the EVA's knuckles, and as he withdrew his fist he saw that it was stained blue, blue with the ichor that was now dripping from the MP-EVA's mouth. He punched it again, and the flow of blood increased. A third time, and he saw the thing's teeth break loose. When Shinji released the monster, it staggered back, swaying drunkenly for a second before toppling over.

He heard plodding footfalls from behind, and spun about just in time to activate his AT field, deflecting a strike from another enemy. The MP-EVA tensed for another swing, but Shinji was already closing the gap. In one fluid motion he drew the progressive knife and swung it in a diagonal arc. Instantly blood gouted from the EVA's chest; it tottered briefly, opening its mouth as if to speak, and fell to the ground.

"Shinji?" Misato asked, her voice still a little shaky, but once again carrying the sound of authority. "We're sending up some more weapons. Check armories D21, D17, and E24."

"Understood," Shinji answered. He picked up the blade of one of the fallen foes and threw it, slicing off the arm of a third opponent. As it stared at its lost limb, mouth agape, Shinji began to run past it and towards the nearest armory.

( >)

With the minimal lighting provided in Terminal Dogma, Gendo couldn't clearly see the face of the man in his path. The intruder leaned against the gate to the LCL plant, arms folded across his chest, as though waiting for somebody.

This was not expected.

The NERV commander cleared his throat. "You do not have the clearance to be in this area," he spoke, his voice coming strong and confident, even in the face of this surprise. "The facility is under attack. I suggest that you move to a designated shelter immediately." His left hand strayed to his jacket, the fingertips lightly brushing against the pistol hidden within.

The figure didn't move. "I would have thought that NERV's most secure areas would provide the _safest_ shelter." His speech conveyed… amusement? Unusual, for one in this situation. "As for not having clearance," the clear voice continued, "recent events suggest that the law here is not a matter of what one is _allowed_ to do, but rather what one can get _away_ with."

This was a waste of time. Gendo pulled the pistol from its holster and leveled it at the man. "You have reached the limit of what you can get away with," Gendo informed him, "so I will give one more chance. Leave this area at once and proceed to a designated shelter."

He heard soft laughter. It sounded… simply _amused_, not malicious. "Dear me. I come here to prevent you from making a mistake, and instead you immediately try to make a different one. I will not leave, Gendo Ikari, not yet."

Gendo pulled the trigger without another word. The deafening report reverberated through the halls of Terminal Dogma, but was overshadowed immediately by another sound, a high-pitched whine.

He gave an uncharacteristic gasp when he realized what the sound was. The gun slipped from nerveless fingers and clattered to the metal floor. He stared, unable to quite believe his eyes.

Between Gendo and the intruder was an all-too-familiar pattern of concentric orange hexagons. The pattern flickered and vanished; the sound faded with it, and a moment later Gendo heard the soft _tink_ of the bullet dropping harmlessly to the floor.

"Who…?" Gendo began to ask.

"Please allow me to introduce myself…" the man laughed as he stepped away from the door. He raised a hand and the room was bathed in white radiance, lighting the corridor as bright as day. The Commander at last saw the intruder's face, taking in every detail in an instant: the flawless complexion, the perfect white smile, the golden hair, the azure eyes.

Inexplicably, he felt a faint twinge of recognition as the intruder added, "…I'm a man of wealth and taste."

( >)

As the bridge crew watched Shinji strike down a fifth MP-EVA, the already tense atmosphere in the room was ratcheted up still another notch by the sudden activation of an alarm. Misato tore her gaze away from the battle that was still unfolding on the display. "What's going on?" she demanded. _Jesus, what now?_

Hyuga checked the readouts. Misato watched as his expression changed from surprise to wide-eyed horror. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times before any sound came out. "It's… it's an AT field. A new one." The technician looked at his superior, his eyes begging her to tell him that this was a joke. "It's coming from… from _inside _NERV!"

"What?" Misato whispered. Quickly recovering composure, she asked another question. "Where inside the base?"

Hyuga checked the screen again. "Terminal Dogma. It's just outside of the LCL plant."

"A…" Misato shut her mouth quickly before she could finish saying "Adam". Hyuga and Aoba looked at each other nervously. She had to do something, or they would suspect that something was up – not that there was much chance of them not suspecting anything by now. _What's going on here?_ she wondered. "Send a security team to investigate," she instructed.

"Yes, sir." Aoba reached for the intercom.

"Belay that order."

Surprised, Misato looked back at the Subcommander. Fuyutsuki's expression gave little away, but his eyes were narrowed. What was he thinking? "Sir?" Misato asked, confused.

"It's most likely a reaction from the LCL processing equipment. With the presence of so many AT fields above, it's begun to resonate with them. Don't allow it to distract us from the problem at hand." He caught Misato's gaze briefly and shook his head before turning his attention back to the display.

_He knows I've seen Adam, _Misato realized. _But he doesn't care. You know what's going on, don't you, sir? Why won't you tell us?_

Her questions would go unanswered for the time being.

Rei Ayanami stopped walking fifty feet from Heaven's Door and stared at the surprising sight that greeted her.

There was nobody here. The Commander's orders had been short and explicit: proceed directly to the LCL plant, where he would be waiting for her. There, she would fulfill her purpose at last. Only there was nobody there, which was completely unexpected. The Commander always placed great stock in punctuality.

Rei checked her watch. Eight-fifteen. She was on schedule, but where was the Commander? For him to be even one minute late was unheard of. Anxiety began to creep up on the First Child as she looked back the way she had come, expecting to see his approach, to hear his measured footsteps on the floor.

_Why is he not here? If the Commander does not meet me, then I will be unable to serve my function._

_Why does that thought bother me? _Rei wondered briefly, but pushed the thought away in favor of more urgent concerns. _Perhaps it is my error,_ she considered, worry rising within her for what was possibly the first time in her life. _I do not wish to fail him._

She tensed, briefly, then took a deep breath and called out – another first. "Commander? Sir, are you there?"

Silence answered her.

_Is it possible that I misunderstood his instructions?_ Rei considered this possibility. _It is the only logical scenario,_ she concluded. _I spoke to him earlier this morning. He must still be somewhere within headquarters._ Accepting this reasoning, she began to retrace her steps. _The Subcommander will know where he is._

It never occurred to Rei that she might have done everything correctly. It was possible that Gendo Ikari's plan had a flaw, that there was some eventuality that NERV's commander had not foreseen. However, Rei Ayanami never considered the possibility.

Commander Ikari and the unexpected intruder watched as Rei vanished into the gloom.

"Rei!" Ikari shouted, the slightest hint of desperation creeping into his voice. When the First Child didn't acknowledge his summons, he whirled on the intruder. "What have you done to her?" he demanded.

The golden-haired man shrugged. "Nothing," he answered. "She could neither see nor hear us, it is true, but young Rei Ayanami remains in perfect health."

Seething, Gendo turned on his heel to follow Rei, but before he was able to take three steps he met some sort of barrier. Gritting his teeth, the Commander placed both hands against the obstruction and pushed, but it remained solid, unyielding, and completely invisible.

At last Gendo gave a sigh and turned back to the other. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, forcing calmness into his voice with a little effort. "For that matter, who are you? Is this one of SEELE's games?"

The man laughed good-naturedly. "You and the Throne of Souls are well beyond playing simple _games_ with each other, Ikari. But no, I am not their agent. I am not like the Fifth Child." He smiled secretively as he said the last sentence. "Who I am is not important, at the moment. In the days to come, perhaps you will learn my identity for yourself."

"Stop toying with me," Gendo hissed. "If you are not with SEELE, then who? The UN? The Americans? What do you want?"

The other stroked his chin as though pondering his question. "What do any of us want in these troubled times?" he mused. "So many of us claim to want something. So few of us understand what we truly desire." His expression grew stern as he drew himself up and pointed at Gendo. "Take yourself, for example. I know what you desire. It is a noble enough goal, in itself. It is the path you take to _attain_ that goal that leaves something to be desired. You never stop to consider the price others pay for your dream, do you? You never allow yourself to." The angelic figure sighed regretfully. "Can such rashness be allowed when the stakes for your people are so high? Can you answer that question, Gendo Ikari?"

"High stakes?" Even in his predicament, Gendo managed a harsh laugh. "We have nothing to _lose!_ We will be saved. Instrumentality is the greatest gift humanity has ever been given."

His strange opponent raised an eyebrow. "And _you, _of course, will be the one to give it to them? I'm afraid that was the wrong answer."

"What, then?" Gendo spat through clenched teeth. "_You_ would have me do something else? Turn humanity's fate over to your masters, no doubt?"

"Those you mentioned previously are no more qualified to make such a decision than you," the man retorted easily. "No," he went on, "I will tell you nothing more. That is not how this game is played. You wish to know who I am, Gendo Ikari? You must learn that for yourself. You hoard far too much power for my liking, Ikari… and so I believe it is time that the playing field was leveled somewhat."

The Commander found his gaze riveted to the intruder's perfect blue eyes. As he stared helplessly, unable even to turn his head or blink, he was possessed by a terrible sense of disorientation, a sensation so strong in bordered on vertigo. The man's eyes were like pits, tunnels traveling endlessly inward towards the tiniest flicker of light. Gendo felt himself drawn forward, almost against his will, yet the closer he drew to falling, the farther into the distance the light seemed to recede.

"Perhaps you will know better one day," the man said, stretching a faintly glowing hand out to the Commander, "and perhaps you will not."

The luminous fingertips brushed lightly against Gendo's chest; at once his right hand exploded with searing pain. His mouth opened in a soundless cry of pain as his eyes locked upon those of his tormentor. The man regarded him coolly as the pain intensified. Through the rushing of blood in his eardrums Gendo heard him whisper, "The rules have changed. The second phase of the game begins now." The light in the room grew brighter; the man's face faded to an indistinct silhouette against the glare, then vanished from sight entirely. Even as the vision faded, Gendo's memory of the event began to grow vague as well. He struggled to concentrate, to retain some fragment of information that would help him piece together what had just happened… but at that moment the pain assaulted his senses with renewed force and consciousness slipped away.

( >)

A seventh Mass Produced EVA collapsed to the ground as if in slow-motion, blood spraying from its nearly severed neck. EVA-01 raised the axe and brought it down with a crash, then straightened, leaving the weapon buried in its foe's chest.

Shinji panted with the exertion of the past few minutes. _You must be getting out of shape,_ the cynical voice in his head chuckled. He didn't bother to acknowledge the comment, mentally or otherwise.

It was strange. The 05-Series EVAs were supposed to be controlled by dummy plugs, yet none of them fought with anything approaching the ferocity that Shinji remembered so well. Their movements had been sluggish and unresponsive, their tactics predictable, their AT fields more easily torn than paper. The entire fight was going too easily for this to be all that the enemy had to offer.

_Never mind that,_ he thought, _there's only one of these things left, and then I'm done. I'll never have to get into this thing again. _Shinji felt a flicker of dark amusement at that last thought, but the more sarcastic of his inner selves remained silent. _Just let me believe that, okay? For now?_

The last of Shinji's targets stepped into view, and Shinji forced his inner conflict into the back of his mind. "This is it," he whispered aloud. "Ready, set…" He planted a foot against his most recent victim and tugged sharply on the axe. With a wet squelch, it reluctantly slid free. Shinji shook the blood from his weapon and, thus armed, began to advance.

"…Go."

The last MP-EVA raised its blade in one hand, preparing to strike when the Third Child came in range. Shinji didn't slow his approach, but kept a wary eye on the sword nevertheless.

Fuyutsuki's face appeared on the HUD without warning. "Shinji, be careful." His voice was strained with the tension of the situation.

"I am being careful," Shinji responded. The warning was hardly necessary; after all, it _was_ his life on the line. They didn't have to worry about their EVA coming to any harm while he was trapped inside of it…

A dozen silent alarms went off in Shinji's mind. He froze, then took a wary step back when he realized what it was.

The sword had begun to change. Under Shinji's shocked gaze, the twin blades began to lose definition. The metal melted away, collapsing in on itself, and as it did so the air was filled with a faint humming, like the sound of a choir holding one unbroken note.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shinji could have sworn that he saw the EVA's smile widen slightly. It might have been his imagination, though.

The sword finished its transformation; in its place was a spear of some kind. It looked to be made of two separate strands, twisting about each other in a tight double helix. The strands came apart at one end, causing the spear to terminate in a pair of sharpened prongs. It didn't take much imagination for Shinji to guess that that end was meant to go into the target.

Shinji was no longer watching the faces of the bridge crew, but heard Fuyutsuki's sharp intake of breath all the same. "Shinji," he warned, "do _not_ let the lance strike you. Is that understood?" Shinji didn't acknowledge the common-sense advice. His eyes locked on the spear, he began slowly to circle around the target, axe held at the ready.

The MP-EVA rotated to keep Shinji in front of it, but made no move to attack. The pilot continued his slow, creeping walk about the circle, tensed for the strike that he knew must be coming.

One circuit was completed… two… two and a half… three… three and a quarter… three and a half… three and five-eights…

Shinji's already overworked nerves were screaming at a fevered pitch. Why wasn't it moving? Was it… he dared to wonder… _afraid?_

Well, if it wasn't going to move, he would!

Shinji began to raise the blade; as he did so, he found his eyes drawn once more to the EVA's face. The smile seemed wider and more mocking than ever. _What are you laughing at? _ Shinji wondered. _What do you have up your sleeve?_

Abruptly he realized that the spear had begun to move. Not the EVA; it remained motionless. No, the spear _itself_ was moving, writhing like a coiled serpent. The double strands were coiling together, twisting in more tightly to form a single, unbroken shaft. The humming Shinji had heard before resumed, the pitch rising steadily as the EVA drew its arm back, preparing to throw. Everything seemed to slow to a near-standstill; the city faded away, leaving only the two antagonists poised to kill each other.

The spear began to move forward…

"Shinji, dodge!" Misato shouted.

…and suddenly the world snapped back into real-time. Before Shinji realized what was happening, he had already thrown himself to the side. There was a sudden, sharp sting in his left shoulder, but he shook off the pain and jump back to his feet. His mouth opening in a scream of rage, he lifted the axe high above his head and brought it down with all his might.

Everything dissolved into a red haze. When his vision cleared, Shinji saw the EVA lying on its back, its head neatly bisected by Shinji's weapon.

"Targets eliminated," he heard himself say. "Objective accomplished."

As he listened to Misato's relieved response, Shinji looked back at the UN force. The tanks and aircraft seemed content to hold their distance. Maybe, he reflected, they didn't dare attack again after seeing what had happened to the Mass Produced EVAs.

Shinji took a step forward. Instantly pain lanced through him from his shoulder. Looking down at EVA-01's body, he could see the spear protruding from the purple armor. Some blood had flowed from the wound, although not as much as Shinji might have expected.

_Strange,_ he wondered, _I had my AT field up. Why wasn't it blocked?_

He was about to pull the spear out when some kind of cloud passed before his face. Smoke, he assumed. Shinji waved the EVA's arm to clear the substance away.

He was vaguely surprised when his hand went past the cloud without disturbing it. He tried again. Rather than being dispersed, the cloud began to grow thicker. More of the substances was rising, wisps of it drifting up from… where?

The bothersome pain returned. Annoyed, Shinji looked to his shoulder – _his_, not the EVA's, and gave a start.

There was a _hole_ in his shoulder, exactly where the spear had struck. Blood was seeping out into the LCL, drifting upward in tiny wisps towards…

His shoulder exploded in agony. Shinji's knees went weak; he had to fight to contain a sudden urge to vomit. This was impossible. That wasn't _his_ shoulder. How could the EVA's damage transfer over to… to _him?_

Gingerly he reached for the spear and closed his fingers around it. Gritting his teeth, he gave a sharp tug. The spear didn't budge, but the resulting pain was almost enough to bring him to his knees. Shaking his head angrily, Shinji clenched his jaw and pulled again. A few meters of the shaft tore free, and Shinji was rewarded with a fresh cloud of blood from the wound. This time he did fall to his knees.

With an effort, Shinji raised his head. He had to get this spear out. Well, maybe the bridge crew would be able to recommend something, but still…

He thought he saw something move, but as he tried to stand and get a better look, a fresh wave of pain sent him back to the ground. Shinji clenched his teeth against the agony stemming from his shoulder and forced himself up to his knees.

Something was definitely moving. When he saw what it was, he almost fell again.

The MP-EVA was getting back up. Looking a bit like a broken marionette, it staggered awkwardly to its feet. The axe was still buried in its head; paying it no heed, the EVA turned to Shinji and grinned, its smile now widening both vertically and horizontally.

_Get up,_ he thought. And so he did, lurching painfully back to a standing position. He could still win this. The EVA was still unarmed; all he had to do was grab the axe and rip it out. This time he'd cut its limbs off and make sure it couldn't get up.

Then another one stepped into view. Blood dripped from the stump of its severed arm, yet it advanced purposefully toward Shinji, another spear held high, ready to throw.

( >)

Far above the continuing battle, the ninth EVA carrier came by for its fifth pass over the city.

"Attempt number four failed; MP-EVA-09 remains inactive. Standing by for activation attempt number five."

"Report from deployed forces: Evangelion Unit-01 has defeated all currently-deployed MP-EVAs. Phase Two complete. Initiating Phase Three…"

"Carrier Nine, Command suggests that you initialize the EVA without using the dummy plug."

"Understood, Command. Commencing attempt number five in five… four… three… two… one…"

"S2 core has activated, Command. All power signals are green. Energy to muscles: green. Energy to nerve connections: green. Preparing to activate dummy plug…"

"What the… Command, MP-EVA-09 is receiving a control signal. It's not coming from the dummy plug. I can't pinpoint the source!"

"Shutting down S2 core… attempting shutdown…"

"Negative! It's not responding!"

"Carrier Nine, Dummy Plug 09 has just gone online. Attempt to re-establish synchronization between the plug and the EVA."

"Roger. Attempting re-synchronization… no good, Command. The EVA won't accept… huh?"

"What the hell? Plug 09 is receiving commands from the EVA! The instructions are flowing in reverse!"

"Carrier Nine, terminate Plug 09 now!"

"It won't respond! What… oh god. Plug 09 is sending instructions to the other eight dummy plugs!"

"We're losing control of the deployed EVAs! They're all operating on their own!"

"MP-EVA-09 is moving! What is it…"

"Carrier Nine, change course. Remove MP-EVA-09 from the city as quickly as possible."

"…"

"Carrier Nine? Carrier Nine, this is Command. Please respond."

"…"

( >)

Like two leaves falling to the ground, the torn wings of the ninth EVA carrier spiraled slowly to the city below, flames spurting from the severed fuel lines like glowing streamers.

MP-EVA-09 raised its sword above its head and gave a roar of victory. The consciousness that gave it life may still have been young, but at an age of one minute this child had already claimed its first kill.

With the instinctive thrill of the slaughter past it, though, the EVA began to wonder at its newfound vitality. How had it come to be here, suspended in the air above this strange place? _Why_ had it come it be here? What was it meant to do?

There was a gulf somewhere within itself. A biting pain gnawed patiently, yet persistently at the edges of its being. Something was missing. The EVA was… incomplete.

Rage rose within it, white-hot and all-consuming. It had been created badly, and yet it was expected to live in this imperfect state? It would _prove_ its power, prove its strength. It would establish itself as a being greater than any of the little ants running about the earth below, those pathetic creatures that would whimper and flee at its approach. It would subjugate them. It would destroy them utterly.

With a thought, the double-bladed sword in its hand melted away, leaving the two-pronged spear that was its true form. The lance tugged downward, towards the city. Something below was calling to it. The spear longed to strike at it, to pierce its heart and release its soul…

But first…

There were… others. There were others like it: beings born from borrowed fragments of another's soul. The rage the Evangelion felt turned cold; its thoughts became calculating and vengeful. _It_ was the rightful owner of the fragments that they possessed! They were thieves! The EVA would take back what rightfully belonged to it!

With that thought, MP-EVA-09 let out a thundering battle cry and streaked downward towards the city, intent on butchering the eight white pretenders who even now were having very similar thoughts of their own.

( >)

When the approaching MP-EVA drew back its arm to release the spear, Shinji knew that he was going to die.

In some of his darker moments, even before he'd become a pilot, Shinji had wondered what he would do in this situation. If he were to see his own death coming and could do nothing to escape, how would he respond? He'd come up with numerous theories on the subject, few of them flattering. As it happened, none of them were true.

As Shinji watched the white EVA's muscles tense, time once again slowed down to a standstill. All he was able to do was stare, but he felt strangely… _empty_. There was no fear. No satisfaction. The only thing he felt was the vaguest understanding that, when the EVA threw its arm forward, he – Shinji Ikari – would be… _over_. For some reason, the prospect neither terrified nor relieved him; there was only acceptance.

_I wonder what will happen to the others once I'm gone?_ he thought.

_Well, at least you didn't run away this time. Don't suppose I can find fault with your behavior._

Now _you decide to be supportive? Thanks so much for your timely arrival._

_You're being supportive of _yourself_, but it's so much easier to hate yourself that you're afraid of trying. Whatever. So anyway… this is it, huh? Wonder what your dad will say. Probably nothing, miserable bastard that he is. Or maybe "He served his purpose well." Hell, why bother thinking about him now? That's just depressing._

_Right. Then there's Misato. She'll cry at first, but soon she'll get used to not having me around again. She'll be happier not having to worry about me._

_I'll bet._

_Ayanami… well, she won't say anything. Father wouldn't have her support me even if she'd wanted to. She'll probably just accept that EVA-01's loss wasn't her fault and go on with her "life." Unless the EVA can be salvaged, in which case she probably won't even notice anything's different._

_Do you _enjoy _thinking like this?_

_Then there's Asuka. _If _she wakes up, she'll be glad I'm gone. After what happened to her because of me, I doubt she ever wants to see me again._

_And then what?_

_And then… it won't matter anymore. I'll be gone._

_Yeah, well… what happens in the next attack? You'll be gone, but they'll need another pilot. That's one more sweet-faced kid whose life will be turned into a living hell. But hey, I guess that's not our problem. _

_So what you're saying is that I'm trying to run away again._

_Of course. You don't want that, do you?_

_I don't know why I listen to you…_

_You'll figure it out._

_I'm good as dead anyway; I don't see what good this will do._

_Then start praying._

_I never liked praying._

_I know we didn't. Can't hurt to try, though, can it?_

As Shinji's awareness crashed back into the present, he gave an almost involuntary cry and flung himself to the side. He felt the pavement buckling beneath his body; as he tried to clumsily roll out of the way, the spear in his shoulder twisted within the wound, sending electric jolts of pain through his side once more. Doing his best to ignore them, he stumbled to his feet and started to run… and stopped, staring.

The spear hadn't been thrown. It was still clutched tightly in the MP-EVA's hand… which in turn was clutched tightly against its head. Shinji watched his enemy fall to its knees, its disgusting mouth opened wide in what looked like a scream of unimaginable pain. The sound hit him a split second later; he dropped the controls and covered his ears with both hands, but nothing Shinji did could completely block out the high-pitched shrieking. It sent a horrible tingling sensation down his spine, and his skin erupted into pins and needles. _Got to shut that thing up, it's going to drive me crazy…_

Then, mercifully, it was over.

Shinji blinked his eyes repeatedly, trying to get the city back into focus. When it finally did, he was stunned to see the MP-EVA still active, the spear still clutched in its hand. He began to back away, instinctively casting about for something he could use as a weapon. He'd dropped the progressive knife in the heat of the battle, so his best bet would be the axe. If he could retrieve it quickly enough, he might be able to throw it before another spear came his way. Shinji had no desire to be hit by one of them again, least of all while one was still impaled in his shoulder.

Then the MP-EVA turned away, as if disinterested. Shinji couldn't believe his eyes. Was this some kind of trick? But no, the monster showed no sign that it even knew he was there. It looked about, sized up the buildings around it, and then spied its own reflection on the glass buildings around it. The EVA stared at itself as if curious, or confused. What was wrong with it?

Suddenly it snapped its head to the side as if surprised, turning its face back towards Shinji. At first he thought it'd finally remembered him, but even as the apprehension began to rise, Shinji discovered that he was once again mistaken.

With almost deliberate slowness, another member of the 05-Series stepped out of a side street, directly between them. It, too, held one of the strange spears. Like the other one, it ignored Shinji completely, turning instead to face its companion.

So many surprises had already come to Shinji today that what happened next didn't immediately register. When he recalled the fight later, though, he would remember with vivid clarity what the MP-EVAs did at that moment. They didn't communicate. They didn't turn around and attack him. They didn't walk away.

Their lips curled back in what was unmistakably a look of utter loathing. The hatred in the air was palpable. Of course the situation was ridiculous; a tiny rational portion of Shinji's mind pointed out that they were controlled by dummy plugs, by machines; machines couldn't have such _human_ emotions towards each other, could they?

So preoccupied was Shinji with this dilemma that the fight was already well underway by the time he realized it. In unison both EVAs had let out a howl and lunged for each other's throats. One impaled the other through the chest with its spear, then withdrew it and struck again; its foe shrieked with pain, but nevertheless raised its own lance high above its head and brought it down upon the first EVA's shoulder.

Why were they fighting each other? Shinji didn't know, but he realized one thing: if they were doing him the service of killing each other, there was no sense in being caught in the crossfire. With that conclusion, Shinji discreetly slipped away from the scene, noting as he did so that the Evangelion with the axe lodged in its face was nowhere to be seen.

When he was sure there were no enemies in sight, Shinji finally relaxed enough to turn his attention back to the viewscreen. "Misato, what's going on?"

Misato's face and voice were drawn with worry. "We have no idea, Shinji. The UN forces finally launched the ninth unit of the 05-Series. The next thing we knew, they were attacking each other." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Shinji, but that's all we know. The good news is that they seem focused on each other, rather than attacking you or the city. If we're lucky, they might finish each other off _for_ us, so just keep your head down until you don't have any choice." Misato leaned close to the monitor. "How are you doing, Shinji?" she asked softly.

"I…" For a moment Shinji considered telling her about the dead innocents in the streets, about the reason he'd driven back the UN assault so fiercely, but as the pain of the memories came back, he changed his mind and tried to think of something else. "My shoulder…" he finally managed, "one of them hit me with a spear… somehow the damage transferred over to me."

Misato paled. "To you…" Her eyes flashed with anger as she turned away from the monitor. "You _knew_ about this, didn't you? Why didn't you tell him?"

A moment later Fuyutsuki's face reappeared on the HUD. "Shinji, I thought that explaining to you what would happen would only impair your judgment at the time. I'm sorry." The old man's regret appeared genuine; the Third Child was surprised to feel himself relax at the sound of his voice. "How serious is the wound?"

Shinji looked. The flow of blood was slow, but showed no immediate sign of stopping. "It won't stop bleeding…" he reported; he saw Misato bury her face in her hands and hastily added, "but it doesn't look serious. I could probably treat it myself with the first-aid kit, but I haven't had time to take care of it. If none of them take an interest in me, I should be able to do something."

He heard Aoba say something to Misato from offscreen; he couldn't make out the words. A look of mingled pain and anger crossed her face and she snapped back "Well, what _can_ he do, then?" Her eyes widened at Aoba's reply; she looked back at the Subcommander as if requesting permission. When her superior nodded, she turned back to Shinji, her eyes hard. "Shinji, you can't bandage the wound while the spear is still in it; otherwise, you'll aggravate the bleeding further every time you try to move. It has to come out."

Shinji winced. "Is there _anything_ I can do about the pain?"

"Yes." Misato sounded relieved that she wouldn't have to tell him otherwise. "We're going to disconnect some of the nerves to the left side of your body. It might not eliminate the sensation completely, but it should dampen the pain enough for you to get the spear out. While you're doing it, your movement will be impaired on that side, so work quickly; I don't want you getting attacked when you're in the middle of this. Are you ready?"

He doubted he would be mentally ready anytime soon, but nevertheless he checked the surrounding area. No enemies were in sight. Howls and shrieks of pain echoed from other parts of the city, but none sounded too close. When he was satisfied that he wouldn't be interrupted, Shinji nodded. "Yes."

Misato looked to the bridge crew. "Do it."

A faint tingling sensation crept into his left arm and leg. It felt as though dozens of pins and needles were being driven into his flesh, with more being added with each passing second. The slightly painful feeling crept up his limbs and into his shoulder and side, growing more unpleasant all the while. As it grew stronger in his side, the tingling began to fade at his extremities, leaving instead an equally uncomfortable numbness. Experimentally, Shinji raised his left arm. It responded, but sluggishly, as if made of lead. He noticed that the Evangelion didn't raise its own arm in response. Now was as good a time as any.

Shinji steeled himself, wrapping the fingers of his right hand about the shaft near where it entered his shoulder. He took a deep breath, then jerked the spear outward with all his might. The shaft pulled out as far as he could reach; bright crimson blood dripped freely from the deeper red of the lance. There was still pain, enough to bring tears to his eyes and tear a ragged gasp from his lips, but it was nothing like what he'd experienced before. With a shaking hand Shinji renewed his grip and pulled again. More of the shaft slid free. The LCL was beginning to get a little cloudy with the renewed blood flow from his aggravated wound. Quickly, he grabbed the spear a third time and ripped it free. The point twisted apart into the two distinct strands the moment it left Shinji's body.

Weakly he whispered, "It's done."

Misato smiled, relief and sympathy clearly etched on her face. "Restore the connections," she instructed the bridge crew, with out taking her eyes off him.

In seconds, his left side burned with icy heat as the feeling returned to it. He flexed his arm gingerly; once again the Evangelion responded actively to his movement. "I… I'll just bandage this up, then…" Shinji said, his voice still shaky.

He groped beneath the seat for the medkit. That was all there was to it, then. Patch himself up, then keep his head down until the MP-EVAs killed each other off. That wouldn't be so bad, would it?

Before he could stop it, his mind wandered back to the civilians in the streets. How would they fare through this without him? What if they were caught in the crossfire because Shinji didn't step forward to fight the enemy himself? What if they were caught in the crossfire _when_ he stepped forward?

It was strangely fortunate when the axe smashed into the street before him, for the shock of the impact forced the thoughts from his mind, saving Shinji from yet another onset of depression. The pain of his shoulder momentarily forgotten, he jumped back and looked about wildly for the enemy, the spear at the ready. Seeing none, he looked back at the axe, and came to a sudden realization: it had come from above.

Shinji's gaze traveled slowly to the sky; he raised the spear to impale any enemy who tried to swoop down upon him. When he saw what was actually happening, he almost dropped the spear in surprise.

All nine Mass Produced Evangelions had taken to the sky, and although they continued to periodically attack each other, they were moving steadily towards the west… away from the city.

It seemed impossible, but… they were _leaving_.

"Misato?" he asked, unwilling to believe his eyes. "They… they're leaving the city." He saw that Misato's expression mirrored the disbelief in his own. "Aren't they?" he pressed, uncertain.

Misato stared at the displays for a second before answering. "It… it looks that way." Her tone became hard and official once more. "The 05-Series are departing Tokyo-3 to the west, sir," she informed Fuyutsuki.

"And the remaining UN forces?"

"They continue to hold their position at the city's northern perimeter."

Fuyutsuki was silent for a moment. "The Third Child must remain on alert while their forces remain."

Shinji bristled. "I _won't_ go kill more people."

"Then you must remain on the surface as a deterrent. Ensure that no enemy forces linger within the city. Is that understood?" The Subcommander seemed unsurprised by his sudden outburst.

"Yes, sir." Without further complaint Shinji reached for the medical kit. He found it easily this time and pulled out the porous plastic bandages that (the label claimed) would function in LCL as well as in air. As he began awkwardly wrapping his shoulder, Shinji couldn't stop his eyes from straying to the sides, to the alleyways and side streets. His muscles remained tense, ready to spring back into action if need be.

The entire thing had seemed too easy.

( >)

Jason jolted into wakefulness, still partially in the grip of whatever nightmare had disturbed his sleep. He was strapped to a chair of some kind; at first he thought he was still dreaming, but the deep bass rumble of the massive jet's engines finally reminded him of where he was. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Jason tried in vain to recall what he'd been dreaming about. When he couldn't summon anything more than vague images, he gave up. All things considered, he should have been thankful he couldn't remember.

He checked his watch; it was a little before nine. There was still an hour to go before his arrival.

With nothing else to do, he finally took Captain Dillinger's advice and opened the folder he'd been given before boarding. Inside, Dillinger had said, were the profiles of the major NERV employees that he'd be working with. If Jason was going to be living around these people, he might as well learn a thing or two.

The photograph on the first file showed a stern-looking man with black hair and beard. He glared at the camera through orange-tinted glasses, giving the distinct impression that the photo shoot was a serious inconvenience. Jason scanned the rest of the profile; the man was Gendo Ikari, NERV's commander. There was a personal history given, but much of it concerned groups and organizations that Jason knew nothing of. He married one Yui Ikari in 1998. Yui gave birth to a son, Shinji, in 2001. In 2004 Yui was killed. The cause of her death was classified. In the same year care of Shinji Ikari transferred from Gendo to Yui's brother in the country.

Affixed to the file was a Post-It note written in Dillinger's miniscule script. Jason squinted to read it: _I've only met the man once, so this is based on what I've heard. Gendo Ikari is a very cold person, but you won't be reporting directly to him very much, so don't worry. Supposedly he has a very high tolerance for bullshit, but he expects results in return for that lenience._ That was fine; Jason wasn't sure what kind of "bullshit" he was in a position to give the Commander, anyway.

The next file was on an older gray-haired man. His expression was neutral; the eyes gave the impression of a tired man who had seen too much in his life. According to the profile, he was Kozo Fuyutsuki, the Subcommander and Ikari's direct subordinate. His history, like Ikari's, largely concerned groups that Jason didn't know about. He did notice that the man had been a professor, and that both Gendo and Yui Ikari had been Fuyutsuki's students. There was another Post-It attached to the page: _He's come over here a few times on official business. A good guy, but a little hard to approach. If he hears something, Commander Ikari is likely to hear it shortly thereafter; read my note on Ikari's file before you start making weird jokes, just in case. _Jason laughed. "Yes, sir…" he muttered, grinning despite himself before continuing.

The next two were paper-clipped together. The photo on one sheet was of a blond woman, probably in her mid-thirties. Her eyes, like Fuyutsuki's, seemed tired; unlike those of the Subcommander, hers seemed… well, tired. Drawn. Like she had too much to do and no time left to take care of it. In contrast, the other file's photo showed a pretty young brunette who smiled brightly at the camera. The blond woman was Dr. Ritsuko Akagi, the head of the Evangelion Project. The brunette was Lieutenant Maya Ibuki. As he checked over both, Jason noted that Ritsuko was the daughter of Naoko Akagi, the architect of the MAGI computer system that NERV-Japan relied upon. Naoko died in 2005, an apparent suicide… and when Ritsuko joined, she occupied the position that likely would have been her mother's. Maya was Ritsuko's assistant, in addition to being a member of the NERV bridge crew. Maya seemed to have led a fairly normal early life, and then threw herself into studies when she entered college, earning grades high enough to catch NERV's attention. _Ritsuko knows everything about how the Evangelions work,_ Dillinger's note read._ If you have an afternoon off and are curious, you might ask her about it… but I wouldn't recommend it. She'll talk your ear off about it if you let her._

There was a second Post-It on Dr. Akagi's file, this one of a different color. _Recently there's been some kind of reordering in the NERV power structure. Dr. Akagi's status has been suspended indefinitely; Lt. Ibuki is now the head of the Evangelion Project._ Unsure what to make of this, Jason moved to the next employee.

The fifth profile was of a beautiful woman with long, dark hair who smiled at Jason from the photograph. He checked the name. Major Misato Katsuragi, Operations Director, NERV-Japan. She was the Japanese equivalent of Captain Dillinger. He looked through the rest of the file. Father, Dr. Masaru Katsuragi, died in 1999, cause of death: classified. Jason blinked. 1999… maybe he'd been killed in the Second Impact. Why that would be classified, he didn't know; there were certainly plenty of others who'd died the same way. Mother, Chiharu Katsuragi, died 2008, cause of death: ovarian cancer. Major Katsuragi enrolled in the same German academy as Dr. Akagi. Her test scores were high – so high, in fact, that the school administration had requested that she take the test again to prove she hadn't cheated. Her second set of scores had been higher than the first, quickly earning her a position at NERV. Katsuragi became the legal guardian of Shinji Ikari a little over a year ago, then became the guardian of Asuka Langley Soryu three months later.

Jason did a double take. Shinji Ikari? He flipped back to Commander Ikari's file. One son: Shinji. It seemed an unlikely coincidence. But if Shinji was in Tokyo-3, why wasn't he living with his father? Jason couldn't think of a reason.

Dillinger had left a note on Major Katsuragi's file as well. _You'll be taking your orders from Misato. I don't want to spoil the surprise too much, but I think you two will get along fine. Don't let her personality fool you; you're working under the best officer in the business._ Jason squinted suspiciously at the photograph. She looked pretty normal to him… but if there was something important he had to know, wouldn't Dillinger have told him?

He was about to move on to the sixth profile, that of a pale blue-haired girl, when the copilot stuck his head in. "Pilot Lee, we're on final, so keep yourself strapped in until we land."

Jason nodded. "Sure thing."

As he leaned back and closed his eyes, Jason felt a faint thrill of excitement. He was really here, on the threshold of a new part of his life. Something told him he should have been apprehensive, or afraid. Instead, he simply felt anticipation.

After ten minutes the copilot came back. "There's a slight change of plans; we've been diverted to a different airstrip, so we'll have to change course. Sit tight; this could get a little bumpy."

Jason searched the man's face for some hint of what he really meant. His jaw was set, but his eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. Finally Jason decided to ask him straight out. "What's happening?"

The copilot hesitated for a moment before answering. "The city's under siege." Without waiting to hear Jason's reply, he returned to his seat.

Jason let out a slow breath. Under siege? Was it an Angel? Now? He remembered hearing that the Second Child had been attacked while en route to NERV. It could happen again.

Something nagged at the back of his mind, a question from the conference the day before. _…recent buildup of UN troops…If the UN were to attack…_

Jason didn't like what that suggested.

( >)

As the 05-Series EVAs departed from Tokyo-3, Azazel huddled in a ditch just outside the city and trembled violently. He was vaguely aware that the MP-EVAs were fighting amongst themselves, as planned. He knew that there was only one more step that had to be completed for his plan to succeed.

He just couldn't remember what it was.

He'd caught the first available flight from Beijing to Tokyo-2. After landing, he'd stolen a car and driven towards his current destination. The UN forces were already massing by the time he arrived, so Azazel had left the car on the road and spent the better part of the morning circling around the city to the southern side, opposite the strikeforce.

There was a problem. Having lost part of his soul the day before, he was still experiencing residual effects. His thoughts would be lucid and clear for an hour; then he would go through a period of incoherence. During these temporary bouts of insanity, Azazel found that he had little control over his own actions, although it seemed that he remained focused on his task throughout. One lapse had come to him while driving; when Azazel recovered, he realized that he'd gone off-road, cutting across a treacherous span of ground that he wouldn't have considered otherwise. Doing so had shaved twenty minutes off his travel time.

What disturbed Azazel was that the lapses were coming more frequently as he drew nearer to Tokyo-3. At first he thought it was due to his proximity to his "children", the newly-awakened MP-EVAs, but now that they were flying away he felt no relief. If anything, the madness became even more pronounced.

He had briefly managed to regain control of his body, which led to where he was now: lying in a ditch. It was only a matter of time until Azazel lost control once more. He needed to put his thoughts into order. Foremost among his concerns was a simple question: _why_ was he still losing control?

The conclusion was obvious. In his weakened state, he was still responding to something within the city. But what? The MP-Evas were gone. Unit-01 was based on Lilith's construction; it should have had no hold on him. Unit-02 was too weak to attract his attention. As for Adam… where _was_ Adam? Azazel couldn't sense him. That wasn't it either, then.

The madness encroached on his mind once again. In desperation, Azazel drove his fist into the pavement before him. He focused on the pain as the crimson blood oozed from his torn knuckles. Once again, the whispering voices retreated, resentfully lurking near the back of his mind.

When they had come upon him this time, he'd felt… angry. Hungry. Like he wanted to kill something. That was… unusual. Azazel didn't know anybody in this city, so what was he reacting so violently to?

_Angel. Foolish. Deluded. Enemy,_ the madness whispered, laughing.

He brought his head up. An angel? But the Seventeenth had already been defeated. It was unlike the Host to deviate from its plans; if they'd planned to send a certain number of messengers, they would send that many. No more, no less.

_Angel, _the voices insisted.

An angel. That _would_ explain the pull he felt towards the city… but why would one of _them_ be here? This was completely unexpected.

_Angel. Confusing. Confused. Strange._

A plan was beginning to form. There was another angel in the city, despite the fact that Heaven had already sent its last agent in this "war". This angel, then, was here in direct contradiction to the Host's plan.

Could it be… _him?_ It seemed unlikely that the same angel would come to Earth twice in such a short time… but there was no other explanation.

_Angel. Enemy. But also different._

A grin slowly spread across Azazel's face. This could prove interesting.

He stood and climbed back onto the street, relinquishing control willingly to the madness.

_Angel. Enemy. Hated. Different. Strange. Kill. Destroy. Revenge. He will fight us. We must fight him. He is different from us. He is different from them._

_He will help us._

( >) _  
_

Misato fought the urge to scream, to let out all the anger, fear, and worry of the past few hours. It couldn't hurt, she reasoned. On the other hand, she knew that the rest of the bridge crew wasn't doing much better than her, and it wouldn't help their nerves to see their superior screaming uncontrollably. She sighed heavily. Command always carried responsibilities with it.

Instead she asked for a status report. Misato nodded her head as the crew informed her that EVA-01 was functioning perfectly, despite the damage to his shoulder. The pilot's pulse was returning to normal; his sync ratio was holding steady at 87 percent. After the unexpected departure of the Mass Produced Evangelions, the UN forces had not made any attempt to mount another assault, but showed no sign of leaving, either. They seemed content simply to wait. There was still no explanation as to why the MP-EVAs had begun attacking each other, or why they had fled the city.

Misato half-listened to all of this. None of it really seemed to matter at this point. True, there were enemy forces encamped practically on their doorstep, but intuition told her that today's battle was over. There were more important things to be dealt with now.

"Shinji, how are you doing?" she asked for what seemed like the hundredth time today. She couldn't tell how many of times she'd actually asked the question. Her worry for Shinji was starting to get to her. Still, she had to try. She'd let him be dragged out there again in the machine he hated; she had to prove that she still cared about him, that she saw him as more than just a tool to be used and cast aside. Misato hoped this would be enough, for now. Somewhere inside her, she knew that it wouldn't.

The pain of his injury was evident on his face, but Shinji managed a smile despite it. "I don't know if my medical skill will win me any awards, but I think I did okay. It looks like the bleeding's stopped."

Misato forced a smile of her own. "That's good." That wasn't what she was really worried about; she had a feeling that Shinji knew that. "After that scare you gave them, I don't think you're going to have too much trouble with the enemy forces any more. Just stand up and look manly and impressive, and they'll be paralyzed with awe. Problem solved, right?"

The bridge crew laughed at her weak joke, and Shinji even let out a small chuckle. "If you say so, Misato."

"And tonight, when this is over," she continued, trying to further lighten the atmosphere, "I'll take you out to dinner. Any place you want to go; the sky's the limit." Shinji's smile faded instantly; Misato's breath caught in her throat. _God, what did I do? I thought I was getting close…_ "Shinji?" she pressed, uncertain.

"You remember that ramen stand we went to after the Tenth Angel? You, me, Ayanami, Asuka?"

"Yeah, what about it?" she asked, dreading the answer. From his tone, Misato doubted Shinji had brought it up because he wanted to eat there.

"I saw it today." Shinji realized that some elaboration was needed, so he went on. "It was crushed into pieces. A tank had run over it. There were bodies lying in the same street. Innocent people. The UN troops killed them." He looked Misato in the eye. "The United Nations is supposed to be the good guy. Why are they doing this, Misato?" Misato couldn't tell what he was thinking; his eyes were completely neutral, as though he had carefully removed all emotion from his expression so as to betray nothing. It was a frighteningly calm mask that she had only seen on one other person: the Commander.

As she made this connection, Misato realized that Shinji wasn't asking the question to learn why this was happening. He was asking it to see how she responded. Shinji wanted to see if Misato would tell him the truth.

Why _were_ they under attack? Supposedly NERV posed a threat to the world; that was the only logical reason that the UN would take such drastic measures. But why would they think that? For the past year, the Evangelions had _protected_ humanity; they'd saved the species many times over. What could bring such a drastic change in attitude?

It kept coming back to NERV's secret: the crucified giant in the basement. Somehow, the UN had to have known about Adam. Within NERV HQ was the beast that had caused Second Impact. That simple fact would have been enough to trigger an assault. They simply believed they were trying to protect humanity.

Could she tell Shinji that? In her mind Misato saw that possibility branching apart, leading into any one of a dozen other questions: "Why do we keep it there, then?" "How do you know this, Misato?" and "Why didn't you tell me this before?" Misato couldn't answer any of those questions; the pain would be too great. Instead she lied:

"I don't know, Shinji."

Without breaking eye contact, Shinji sighed and nodded. His face didn't change: there was no anger, no remorse, and no betrayal. There was no need. That simple, unwavering, unemotional stare spoke volumes in and of itself. He knew she was lying. He had known she would lie before he asked the question.

_I'm doing this to protect you, Shinji, _she thought. Even in her mind the words sounded empty and meaningless, nothing more than a way for her to believe she was doing the right thing. Now Misato knew the truth: it was impossible for her to be close to him, to give him the love and trust that he deserved. Their duty would not allow it. In order to protect Shinji, she had to seek out the hidden facts of their situation; not being able to tell any of them to Shinji was the price she paid for that knowledge.

She wanted to apologize. She wanted to say "I'm sorry, Shinji." She wanted to tell him the truth, to hold him and promise him that she would never lie to him, that it killed her to do so. She wanted to break down crying… again. As weak as the tears seemed, as much as Misato hated herself when they came, there was still something liberating about them; they were the one of the only honest forms of expression that she had left.

But she didn't apologize, or comfort Shinji, or start crying. She simply held Shinji's gaze and wished that she could _will_ him into understanding. Misato became aware of the eyes of the bridge crew on her. They knew something was distinctly wrong with the Major and her ward.

Finally Aoba cleared his throat. "Major, we have a call from the American EVA carrier. They've made the necessary course corrections as requested, and are preparing to land at the auxiliary airstrip at the southwest edge of the city. Estimated time of arrival: five minutes. As of yet, the enemy has made no move to intercept."

Misato gratefully broke eye contact with Shinji. "Have the elevators ready to go when the carrier lands. I want that plane in the sub-hangars before the UN even gets a chance to look at it. Shinji, make for the southeast airstrips. There's a plane coming in to land. Protect it from the enemy at all costs."

Shinji nodded, his face still blank, and cut the link. Misato had just given him the last thing he needed to hear: more orders.

The sadness faded, replaced by a smoldering anger at herself and everybody else who had put Shinji into this situation. Why did the UN have to attack them? Why was Misato too weak to do anything to protect Shinji? Why did the Commander hate his son so much? Why did Fuyutsuki support Commander Ikari in this?

Misato's anger irrationally turned to Rei. She was always hanging on the Commander's every instruction. She could at least _pretend_ to care about somebody else. It was her duty as a pilot to be on the surface, fighting alongside Shinji. _She_ should be up there fighting instead of him!

Sighing, Misato put her back to the console and leaned against it… and nearly fell over in shock when she saw the object of her ire standing near the door, watching her. She knew she wasn't being fair, but the sight of Rei on the bridge caused a resurgence of her anger. _How can you just stand there like that?_ Misato opened her mouth to say something that she knew she would regret later.

Fuyutsuki spared her the embarrassment. "Rei? What are you doing here?"

Without taking her eyes from Misato, the First Child responded, "I have come to find the Commander."

What Misato saw next shook her resolve more than anything else that had happened so far. It was only visible for a split second before Fuyutsuki caught himself and forced his face back to calmness, but it was there long enough for Misato to pick up on it. It was a look of fear.

Now, more than ever before, Misato was certain that more was going on here than just an unexpected attack. Throughout all of the developments on the surface, her superiors had remained composed and in control. And now, after everything that had happened today, _this_ was the first thing that had surprised them. They had known about this attack from the beginning. They had planned all of this.

Until now, evidently. Misato's eyes narrowed as Fuyutsuki hurriedly crossed the room to Rei and spoke to her in hushed tones. _What's this, sir? This is too important for my ears?_ _There something you can tell Rei, but not me?_ Rei answered her superior softly and gave a tiny nod of her head, never breaking eye contact with the Major. Unable to do it herself, Misato simply watched.

She nearly jumped when a phone started ringing. Shigeru Aoba answered it with remarkable calm, considering what was happening. "This is the bridge." That didn't last. "_What?_ Are you sure? Of… of course."

"What is it, Aoba?" Misato asked. _What now,_ she wondered dismally.

Aoba stared at the receiver. "It's one of the security teams, Epsilon-3. They're in the upper levels of Terminal Dogma… they say they've found the commander, and he's been… attacked."

Before Misato could recover from this latest shock, Fuyutsuki crossed the bridge and took the phone. "I'll take that." Ignoring them, he put the receiver to his ear. "This is Fuyutsuki. What's happened… I see. Have you called a medical team? …Well done. Is he conscious? Very well. I'll be there shortly." He hung up and looked at Misato, clearly in command of the situation once again. "I'm going down there. Major, you have the con."

_Don't want me to find out what you're up to, do you?_ "Of course, sir."

As Fuyutsuki walked through the door, Rei moved to follow him. Abruptly he turned and looked down at her. "Rei, stay here. That's an order." Without answering, Rei stepped back into the bridge and resumed her position near the entrance.

There was a crisis on the surface, and a crisis underneath it. What other surprises was today going to bring?

( >)

"I think we're going to be safe, at least for now."

Kaoru told this to the others as they rested in an abandoned grocery store. They'd spent upwards of half an hour running from the enemy, and then had huddled in here, praying that an Evangelion wouldn't step on them in the continuing struggle. Eventually the sounds of battle had faded, but the tense silence had continued for another hour, as though they feared that a single word would bring the enemy down upon them once again. Now, at least, Kaoru felt secure enough in his judgment to speak his assurances aloud. Shinji must have fought well. They were all still here, so clearly the Third Impact had not been initiated. That left a possibility that they would survive the rest of the day. Hopefully he would be able to learn what was going on during that time.

None of the others spoke up in response; they simply looked at him as they finished eating their lunch. He supposed that after a year of constant Angel attacks they had learned not to assume that they were ever free from danger.

He would have to leave them soon. If he was going to investigate the hidden secrets in this city, it wouldn't do to have them asking questions. Kaoru didn't think any of them would understand, anyway. The chances were high that any of them could be hurt, even killed.

On the other hand, if it hadn't been for him, they would probably all have died that morning. Kaoru sighed. Why was dealing with humans never simple?

"I'm going to be leaving you pretty soon," he told them. "There's… somebody I have to find, here in the city. I'm told he's still alive… at least, I _think_ it's a he" They didn't react, but none of them took their eyes from him as he spoke. "I have to learn something about what's going on here. I don't know if you've realized, but nobody out _there_," he swept his arm in a circle, indicating the world beyond the city, "has any idea of what's really happening. I'm here to find that out."

"You a reporter?" the younger of the two men asked. Kaoru shook his head. "A spy, then?" His tone was neither menacing nor suspicious; he was simply curious.

"No." Kaoru stood and stretched, feeling his joints pop as he did so. "I'm just a concerned individual. I'm usually good at learning things about people, and I've been curious about the people here for a good, long time."

His response had been intentionally vague, and he doubted that his new friends trusted him enough to take him at his word. Still, they voiced no complaint or suspicion. Instead, the woman named Chisato spoke up. "Why do you need to leave us behind?"

Kaoru shrugged. "This is _my_ mission, not yours. There's no need for you three to concern yourselves with my problems."

"We _owe_ you," Chisato said, climbing to her feet. "Well, I do, at least. If you want to find this person, it'll be easier if you have friends on your side. We live here, anyway. I'll bet we know our way around this place much better than you." The others nodded their agreement. "If it weren't for you, we'd probably all be dead right now. Let us pay you back."

Her offer was tempting, he had to admit; the four of them together would be able to cover much more ground than he would alone. Still, he hadn't saved their lives today just to let them get killed on his account. "It's not necessary…" he tried to protest.

"Nonsense," the older man interrupted. "She's right, it's the least we can do."

Kaoru rolled his eyes inwardly. Free will, indeed. Here he was on his first full day as a human, and already his own will was being questioned. He could tell that he was being backed into a corner; if he continued trying to refuse their help, they would be more likely to become suspicious.

Maybe he _could _use them. If nothing else, it would deflect their suspicions for a while. If it looked like things were becoming too dangerous, he'd just have to find a way to get away from them later. For now, it couldn't hurt to have some friends in the city.

"All right. If you want to help me, that's your decision. I should warn you straight up: it's probably going to be a lot of work without much reward. I don't even know where to start looking for this person."

"Well, how had you been planning to find him?" Chisato asked.

Kaoru spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "My plan was to ask questions of anybody I meet. The one I'm looking for usually has something of an _understanding_ with the people around him. If he hears that somebody's been snooping around, chances are…"

Kaoru stopped suddenly. Confused, the others opened their mouths to ask what was wrong, but Kaoru silenced them with a finger to his lips. _Listen_, he mouthed. They did, and soon the four of them heard the sound that had made Kaoru stop: the quiet crunching of footsteps on broken glass.

As one they looked to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the grocery store. The store had been closed and abandoned; since the door was locked, they'd had to break a window to get in. Kaoru had surprised them by smashing several others as well, then spreading the shards around the area just outside. Now his actions served their purpose, giving ample warning of an intruder's approach.

The soft crunching grew louder; as they approached, the four of them stepped back, further into the shadows of the store. Kaoru wished he'd looked for a weapon earlier. Well, it was too late now. It was unlikely that it was a soldier, in any case; Shinji should have driven any enemy troops from the city by now.

When the source of the noise stepped into view, his friends visibly sagged with relief. The man was not wearing a uniform; he wasn't a soldier. The old man stepped forward to greet the intruder, his face warm and friendly. "Good to see somebody who's not a soldier. Come on in."

The intruder cocked his head and looked at them uncertainly. Kaoru took this chance to give him a quick once-over: probably in his thirties, about six feet tall, reasonably athletic from the looks of him. Spiky black hair, brown eyes… fair skin. Not Japanese. Maybe Russian? German?

After a moment's pause the man stepped into the store. Despite his apparent calm, Kaoru felt a flicker of apprehension. Something wasn't quite right about the way he moved. His posture was slightly hunched, but it didn't seem to be due to a physical deformity as much as a conscious choice; it was as though he was trying to remain smaller, lower to the ground. He held his arms away from his body in an unnatural position. His manner of walking was awkward as well; he kept rocking slightly from side to side as he moved. On top of that, he still hadn't said anything. Instead he suspiciously eyed those in the store, as if expecting them, _daring_ them to pounce on him at any moment. The eyes seemed like they would be more appropriate for a tiger than a human.

Maybe he was in shock after the attack. That made sense. Hoping to allay his fears, Kaoru stepped forward. "It's all right," he said in a comforting tone. "We won't hurt you. We're hiding from the soldiers too."

At the sound of Kaoru's voice, the intruder's eyes snapped to meet his. The look in them was uncomfortable, to say the least. Under the man's penetrating gaze, Kaoru could almost feel himself being turned inside-out, laid out on a table to be inspected at leisure. Still he said nothing, simply fixing Kaoru with his unnerving stare.

Kaoru tried again. "Are you hurt? Do you have friends who were hurt in the attack? We'll be happy to help you, if you like." It would be best, Kaoru decided, to make friends with the man rather than drive him away. Still, he couldn't shake the nervousness from his mind. What was it about this person that made him so uncomfortable?

He had his answer within a minute.

The moment the intruder heard the word "help," he cocked his head again and looked quizzically had Kaoru. "Help?" he echoed.

"Help," Kaoru confirmed.

"Help…" the intruder said again. He seemed to be testing the word on his tongue. His gaze became momentarily faraway; it looked as though he was trying to remember something he had almost forgotten. Then, as quickly is it had left, the focus returned to his eyes, and his face broke into a grin. "Help," he said, this time with finality.

Kaoru unconsciously took a step back. The man's eyes had been unsettling before; now that he was smiling, they were downright frightening. The smile wasn't one of happiness or relief. It was the look of a feral beast stalking its prey.

The man took a step forward, then another. His strange limping gait smoothed out as he moved. "Yes… help… help us…" His eyes gleamed. "…_angel_."

The way he said it as he stared into Kaoru's eyes left no room for doubt. This man knew what Kaoru was. But how? What did he want?

"An Angel?" the old man asked, misunderstanding. "Is another Angel attacking the city? Why haven't the sirens sounded yet?" When the intruder didn't answer, he laid a hand on the man's arm. "Tell me what's wrong."

It happened too quickly for Kaoru to follow. The stranger gave a brief, almost careless twitch of his arm; the old man was thrown back, striking against a shelf with a dull thud. The impact sent the shelf teetering backwards; cans and bottles clattered noisily as they fell to the floor. Without even a sideways glance to see what had happened, the intruder dashed forward. One hand vanished briefly into his coat, then flashed back into view and jabbed forward before Kaoru could react…

The look in the man's eyes changed to confusion. Whatever he had been expecting, this was not it. He stepped away from Kaoru, the confusion giving way to sudden, abject fear as he backed quickly away.

Kaoru finally summoned the strength to look down at himself. Something white protruded from his abdomen – the handle of a knife. Kaoru could just make out something inscribed in black before his vision went hazy. The next thing he knew, the world tilted, dropping him to his side on the floor. He heard Chisato's surprised gasp. Somebody called his name.

He was able to focus just long enough to see the last thing the intruder said before running away. The fear was gone now, replaced once again by that look of animal cunning. The pounding of his heartbeat drowned out the words, but the lip movements were unmistakable.

_Come get me… if you live through this._

And suddenly everything became clear. The man's sudden, surprising appearance, his decidedly abnormal behavior, calling Kaoru _angel_, ignoring the others, going straight for him… now it made sense. He'd been planning to investigate the activities of the Fallen; in the end, it hadn't even been necessary for Kaoru to look for his enemy. The enemy had found him – and had struck the first blow. There wouldn't be a second.

"Toshiro, get help!"

Kaoru felt hands lift him from the ground and carry him to a table. He struggled to make out the faces above him. Chisato was there, and the old man. They both looked at him in helpless fear as he tried to stay awake. At least the pain was fading.

For the second time today, Kaoru knew he was a dead man. _The others won't be happy,_ he thought ruefully. Well, at the very least he'd managed to find the enemy. One of the Fallen was in the city; he was armed and prepared to kill. What he was _doing_ was the mystery, and Kaoru would never have the opportunity to find out.

Darkness enveloped him.

( >)

Being careful not to strain his injured shoulder, Shinji walked through the city towards the auxiliary airfield. He tried not to think about his reason for traveling there… but given the events of the day, he had very few pleasant alternatives to think on instead.

He'd caught part of the conversation Misato had held with the bridge crew. The information was fragmentary at best, but what he could piece together was more than enough. The plane he would be protecting wasn't just _any_ aircraft. It was an EVA carrier – which meant that a new Evangelion was being delivered at that moment.

Once that conclusion had been reached, other questions began to pop up like mushrooms, each one less comforting than the last. Shinji answered them as quickly as they arose, but the image they provided was bleak indeed.

A new Evangelion was on the way. There were really only two pilots to speak of any longer: himself and Rei – the _new_ Rei, he hastily corrected. There were already two EVAs available to the pilots. A new unit would provide them with an extra. However, Shinji's father didn't believe in wasting potential, which meant that a new pilot would be quickly forthcoming: another unfortunate child, shanghaied into risking his life inside a titanic monster. Briefly Shinji entertained the idea of destroying the carrier himself, saving the new pilot from the pain. The thought passed; he was surprised and slightly embarrassed to feel regret at letting it go.

He carefully began to step around some people who hadn't gotten out of the street. Something about them made him stop and look more closely. They were trying to get his attention, waving urgently. On the external pickups he heard their cries: "Wait! Help us; we need a doctor!"

It was then that he noticed the wounded man. Barely out of his teens, he was either dead or unconscious already. Shinji increased the magnification; the white handle of a knife protruded from his stomach.

A stabbing? Here? In the middle of an attack? Shinji shook his head. It was ridiculous. Without a word, Shinji bent down and held out his hand. The others, two men and a woman, lifted their injured friend and gently moved him into the EVA's palm.

Shinji reopened the link to Misato. "Where's the nearest medical facility?"

"What are you-"

"I have somebody who's injured. _Where?_"

He could see his guardian warring briefly with her desire to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing when he had specific orders to follow. It lasted only a split second before she nodded and conferred briefly with one of the technicians.

"There are no operational clinics within easy reach," she reported. "However, we have records of a doctor living only a few blocks away. Supposedly he's still living in the city. If he hasn't been killed yet… I'm sorry, but it's the best I can do."

"Good enough." All business, as usual. Shinji forced himself to focus on his current situation; there would be time to worry about Misato later.

"We'll upload the coordinates to your HUD."

Pushing Misato and his injury to the back of his mind, Shinji began to run as quickly as he dared, hoping that the grip in which he clutched the victim didn't aggravate the knife wound.

The doctor's house was a simple concrete structure, part of a neighborhood of those mass-produced homes that all appeared identical. Through some miracle the combined destruction of the Angels and the UN attack had thus far spared the block. Feeling that, with everything that had happened to this point, his good luck was wearing dangerously thin, Shinji nonetheless knelt before the building and prayed that the doctor was in.

"Is anybody in there?" he yelled. "Please! I need a doctor!"

There was no immediate response, and for a heart-stopping moment Shinji wondered if NERV's information was correct and the man had fled the city. His fears were dispelled somewhat as the door at last swung open and a young woman stepped out in a bathrobe, looking up at him without any sign of concern.

"Please, does the doctor still live here? It's an emergency!"

"I'm the doctor," the woman replied, vague but impersonal irritation in her voice. "What seems to be the problem?"

He didn't give himself time to dwell on his gaffe. "I have someone who's been stabbed, and there's no clinics within easy reach. Can you help him?"

"Let me see him." Shinji complied, lowering his hand to the ground before her and opening his fingers. The doctor looked the man over without comment before giving a curt nod. "I'll see what I can do." Showing more strength than Shinji had expected from her slight frame, she picked the man up in both arms and disappeared into the house.

Shinji stared after her for a moment, trying to figure out what it was that seemed so familiar about the situation. When nothing came to him, he shook his head and resumed his approach to the carrier, firmly pushing the victim's face to the back of his mind. He had done all he could. Why was he so worried?

( >)

The EVA carrier jolted as the wheels hit the tarmac. When he felt the sharp impact run through his body, Jason let out a sigh of relief. Flying was decidedly _not_ his favorite way of traveling from place to place, and it was certainly a weight off his mind to be back on the ground. Now all he had to do was get out of the plane, and he'd be able to feel solid earth beneath his feet again…

He shook himself irritably. No, that really wasn't it at all. The truth, he knew, was that he was simply getting impatient. He was attributing his nerves to the flight when in reality he was anxious about the meetings to come. Although he worked hard to put on a confident face, Jason never adjusted well to new situations, and his arrival in Japan – where he knew _nobody_ – would surely be his most stressful challenge yet.

"I wonder what they're like," he said to nobody in particular as the carrier rolled to a stop. For all his talk at the press conference about "American justice," he honestly wanted to make a good impression on his new hosts. What if he said the wrong thing? What if none of them wanted to talk to him? What if…

He shook his head again, more forcefully this time. "Get ahold of yourself," he muttered. One of Rachel's frequent pieces of advice came to him: _Sometimes things go wrong, but if you sit around all day worrying about them, you'll make them go wrong all by yourself._ Thinking about her calmed his nerves somewhat, and he nodded. It was sound advice. He'd best start following it by thinking about something else. Jason unbuckled his safety straps and stood up, letting out an appreciative groan as he stretched. That done, he approached the cockpit.

"Pilot Lee," the co-pilot greeted him without turning around. "There's a short delay; we're just waiting for the elevator to arrive."

_Elevator?_ Jason wondered, but held his tongue. "Okay," he said instead, and asked a different question that had been bothering him for the past several minutes. "What did you mean when you said the city was under siege?"

"Military forces," the pilot responded easily. "Looks like the UN." From his apparent lack of concern, the man might as well have said "It's a nice day out, isn't it?"

Jason blinked. "United Nations? But why?"

The pilot shrugged. "Who knows? I'm not in charge of them."

"Don't you think they might try to attack us?"

"Yep." The co-pilot pointed out of the windshield.

Dark specks in the distance were beginning to draw nearer. Jason's breath caught in his throat as the pilot brought up a magnified display, showing them in full detail: VTOL aircraft.

"Uh…" Jason began, not sure how to put his question to the seemingly unflappable men. "Shouldn't we try moving, or something?"

"No good." The co-pilot leaned back in his seat and propped his hands behind his head. "We _might_ be able to outrun them if we were already in the air, although I wouldn't place bets on it – but by the time we got up to speed they'd have taken us out already."

A chill ran down Jason's spine, tempered by a faint whisper of curiosity. "Why are you so calm about this?"

"Because," the man responded, suppressing a yawn as the VTOLs began to launch missiles, "help's already on the way."

"What do you…" Jason began, unable to tear his gaze away from the approaching death."

"Look over to your left."

With an effort Jason did so, turning his eyes to the side of the 270-degree windshield. From between the structures of Tokyo-3 a titanic humanoid figure ran towards them. He looked back at the approaching missiles.

"It's not going to make it!"

"It'll make it."

The figure suddenly transformed into a blur, crossing the distance more quickly than Jason would have dreamed possible. He tried to close his eyes, convinced that if the missiles didn't kill them, the approaching machine would, but his eyelids wouldn't respond…

The sound of the detonations, when coupled by a high-pitched ringing sound, nearly deafened him. He hadn't even seen it happen. One moment the missiles had seemed only seconds away; the next his view was taken up by the giant purple monstrosity as the weapons detonated against some kind of invisible barrier. The VTOLs immediately peeled off, perhaps realizing the futility of their attack.

Jason stared at their savior, who stood with a pallet rifle at the ready, serving as a warning to other would-be attackers, utterly calm and in control. It had moved so _quickly…_ he felt a surge of admiration for the Unit's pilot. _He must really be something_, he thought inwardly. _I wonder if I'll be half as good as he seems to be._

The carrier's pilot leaned forward, a smile finally breaking out on his face. "Thanks for the save, EVA-01. It's good to see you. If you'd stand guard until the elevator gets here, we can be on our way and out of your hair."

"Understood." The boy's voice carried little emotion, but considerable fatigue.

Another voice, a woman's, broke in and interrupted them. "Good work, Shinji. The elevator's here now. We're glad you boys could make it. How's the Sixth doing?"

The co-pilot laughed. "He's right here now, gawking at EVA-01. I think the Third just got a new fan."

"I see." The woman didn't laugh at the joke. For his part, Jason shut his mouth and looked at the pilots, embarrassed. Was he that obvious?

Neither of them paid him any mind as they engaged the throttle and slowly began to roll forward onto the elevator that would lower them into NERV headquarters.

( >)

The Commander of NERV lay on the ground in a fetal position, his eyes staring blankly into space, and whispered to himself too softly for anyone to hear.

"He was like this when we found him, sir," the leader of Epsilon-3 informed Fuyutsuki.

The old man frowned. This didn't make sense. Ikari's destination had been the LCL plant in Terminal Dogma… and yet he'd been found in the upper levels of the base, well away from the target. Even if some intruder had waylaid him en route, this was nowhere near the route he would have taken to the target. Had his attacker gone to all the trouble of dragging him here? Had Ikari wandered up here by himself?

"He's in a state of shock, sir," the captain continued, kneeling next to the stricken man's body. "He reacts to what goes on around him, but… nothing seems to bother him that much." He pulled a penlight from his belt and shone it in Ikari's eyes. The pupils focused and followed the light as it was moved back and forth in front of them. "I'm not exactly an expert on this, but I'd say he just needs some rest."

"Is there any indication of who did this?"

The captain shook his head. "There's no indication that there was even an _attack_, sir." He looked just as bewildered at Fuyutsuki. "No sign of a struggle, no visible wounds, no _damage_ of any kind that I can see… except for one thing." His brow furrowed as his confusion seemed only to increase. "Take a look at his hand."

The Commander clutched his right hand to his chest as if terrified that someone might try to steal it from him. With an unpleasant lurch Fuyutsuki realized that the younger man was no longer wearing his gloves. He took a look at the security leader, but his face didn't show any sign of suspicion or fear… just confusion. Momentarily Fuyutsuki wondered if he was a SEELE spy. How else could he see Adam and have no reaction? His mind feverishly searching for some plausible explanation, Fuyutsuki gently pulled Ikari's hand away from his body.

It was covered in blood.

"We're already running DNA analyses on the blood – standard procedure, of course, but this is what's really weird. From the preliminary results, it looks like the blood is the Commander's! But there's no injury anywhere on his body!"

Fuyutsuki would have agreed that this was strange indeed, but he was no longer listening. His attention was fixed on the palm of the Commander's hand, watching as the fingers clenched spasmodically as though trying to grasp something that was just out of reach.Through the sheen of blood the Vice-Commander could see that the skin was smooth and undamaged, apart from the burn scars that by now were months old.

Adam was gone.

( >)

"Well, Mister whatever-your-name-is, I'll say this for you: you are the most absurdly lucky person I have ever had the dubious pleasure of meeting."

The voice reached through the haze of pain and grabbed ahold of Kaoru's consciousness, pulling it forth into reality like a drowning man towards air. It was a vaguely familiar sound; throughout his period of semi-consciousness it had touched him on occasion, the words always reassuring or, at worst, cheerfully irritable. It had been a small but important comfort to him, constantly reassuring him of one thing: he _was_ still alive.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring up at a young woman in her mid-twenties with close-cropped brown hair. Her green eyes watched him intently, giving Kaoru a sudden urge to blink and break the connection. When he did so she seemed to relax somewhat and backed away from him.

"Welcome back to... to…" She belatedly clapped a hand over her mouth to cover an unexpected yawn, then continued without embarrassment. "…To the living, sir."

He tried to sit up; the movement caused fingers of pain to shoot through his abdomen. He winced slightly and gave it up for the moment.

"What happened?" he asked weakly.

"You got stabbed. I'd think you would have remembered," she responded, her voice completely serious.

"I'm… not really in very good condition for humor, Miss."

The woman snorted. "No such thing. And anyway, my nap was interrupted to take care of you. I don't see why I shouldn't have a little fun."

"S-sorry… for the inconvenience," he managed.

"Whatever," she replied, waving a hand dismissively. "In any case, it was the weirdest house call _I've_ ever had. The purple EVA shows up literally at my door and starts yelling for a doctor." She sighed, stretching as she did so. "There must be better ways to have someone wake you up. I go outside and there it is with you clutched in its fist."

Kaoru smiled in appreciation and, perhaps, a faint sense of irony. He knew all too well what had happened the last time he had been in that position, and he was certain that Shinji remembered it even more vividly. But this time Shinji had saved his life: a tiny step towards personal redemption, perhaps… if only he'd actually known what he'd done. "He brought me here?"

"Yeah, he did. Does he know you?" Kaoru shook his head, unwilling to take the risk of fabricating a plausible explanation. "Well, he seemed pretty worried about you all the same. With good reason, too – a centimeter or so in a different direction and that knife would've put you in the morgue right enough. As it is, it doesn't seem to have hit any internal organs. You've certainly got someone watching out for you."

"Always," he replied, laughing softly.

She paused to look at him, her head cocked as though sizing him up. "It's stupid, really… like we haven't got enough problems as it is without people cutting each other up. I don't know what would drive someone to do something like this…"

"A religious dispute," Kaoru muttered.

The doctor blinked. "Religious dispute?"

Kaoru shook his head again, eliciting another pained wince. "Sorry… I was just thinking to myself. No, some friends and I were squatting in an abandoned grocery store. Somebody came and attacked us. I'm guessing the man just assumed we wouldn't be willing to share. What with all the chaos from the attack today, I can understand him not being able to think too clearly."

"I guess it's easy to forgive the guy, considering that he didn't manage to kill you. Still, those stitches aren't for show; exert yourself too hard and you're back at square one. Think about that before you decide to let him off the hook."

"I stand by the doctor's decision," Kaoru sighed, unwilling to press the issue. He lay back and closed his eyes, but the desire for rest had left him. His strength was returning, despite the lingering pain in his stomach. He needed to get back on his feet; dealing with the Fallen could not wait.

This was reinforced by a light rap on the head. "Don't even think about falling asleep here," the woman warned him. "This is my kitchen table that you're lying on." She extended a hand to help Kaoru up, which he gratefully accepted.

He saw that she was holding something out to him. "What's that?"

"A souvenir, of sorts." She handed it over. "A bit morbid, but what can you do?"

It was the knife, wiped clean of his blood. Kaoru turned it over in his hand, taking in its details: an ivory handle, a three-inch-long blade… but no folding or switching mechanism that he could see. As before, the pattern on the hilt caught his eye again. Able to look more closely now, he saw that it was, of all things, a cross, contained within a Star of David. The words _Fallen but not defeated_ were engraved beneath it; abruptly he realized that the cross was upside down. He gripped the knife experimentally, testing its balance as the doctor looked on in disapproval.

"You haven't listened to a thing I said, have you?"

Kaoru smiled. "I promise not to ruin my stitches." Feeling that this was somehow insufficient, he faced her and bowed. "Thank you for helping me. I don't have any way to repay your kindness, but I am in your debt."

"You can thank me by staying out of trouble."

"I will try my best," he laughed.

He wasn't sure if she believed him or not, but she seemed to relax slightly. "I'll show you to the door."

They walked in silence to the exit. She opened the door for him and waved him through. The sun was considerably lower in the sky than Kaoru remembered, although the weather remained clear. At least a couple of hours must have passed. "It's two in the afternoon," the doctor informed him, as if reading his mind. Several hours, then.

He stepped through the door, then bent down and picked an envelope off the step. "Someone must have tried to give you a message." He turned around and handed it to his host.

She took it, glanced at the address, and did a double take. "Wait a minute… this isn't for me. I have no idea who it's for." She handed it back. Kaoru looked and felt a chill run down his spine.

_Tabris,_ the neat writing on the envelope spelled out.

"Do you know what that is?" she asked.

Kaoru shook his head – yet another lie, but they were becoming much easier to make today. "Do you mind if I open it and look? Maybe there's some clue."

She shrugged. Taking that as a "go ahead," he tore the seal on the envelope. Within was a single sheet of paper, on which was printed a street address: _254 Jinnai._ There were no other marks."Nothing," he sighed, handing it back to her.

His head whirling, Kaoru managed a polite good-bye and began to walk away. Obviously the note had been addressed to him. He had a fair guess as to who it had come from, too. Something didn't line up. He'd been helpless for hours; killing him would have been a simple matter. What, then, did this mean? It sounded like an invitation… but an invitation to _what?_

There would only be one way to find out. It was time to get some answers.

( >)

Jason paced the crew cafeteria, trying to decide whether he was irritated or simply bored.

According to the carrier's pilot, the elevator had taken them into the bottom levels of the Geofront. As the lift was located internally and offered no view of the landscape, he'd had no choice but to believe the man. After finishing their descent, they'd pulled into a hangar easily large enough to contain six such carriers; at that point the pilot and co-pilot had begun their post-flight checks, leaving Jason to his own devices.

Or at least, to such devices as were available. A final message from the woman on the radio had instructed him to wait in the cafeteria used by the aircraft technicians. A few questions had given the Sixth Child an idea of where to go, and that had led him here.

That had been six hours ago.

At first his apprehension had grown. What if they'd forgotten him? What if he'd gone to the wrong place? He'd been concerned about making a good first impression, and it appeared as though his opportunity may have just slipped away. With some difficulty he'd managed to force these thoughts down, remembering Rachel's advice as he did so. Briefly he'd considered calling her, but his cell phone lacked the power to send a signal from underground… and there was no guarantee that she'd even be awake at the time, anyway.

Jason wished he'd brought a backpack with some books or games, but he hadn't thought of it at the time. Without even that option, he was reduced simply to pacing – his nervous habit when required to wait for anything. Apart from a short break for a barely-edible cup of instant noodles from a vending machine, the monotony had continued more or less unabated. He didn't let his worries get the better of him again; there were plenty of people on duty in the hangars, and if NERV needed to find him they were certainly equipped to do so.

He opened Dillinger's folder and flipped through it for the umpteenth time, stopping at the profile of Rei Ayanami. As had happened every other time that he'd turned to the page, a faint tingling, almost electrical, ran through his body.

It was her face. Not the color of the eyes, not the polished whiteness of the skin, not the hair that, no matter how many times he looked at it, was still quite definitely blue… it was the look on her face that did it. It looked _artificial_. Utterly devoid of expression, Rei Ayanami looked like nothing so much as a porcelain doll.

With an effort Jason tore his eyes away from the picture and looked at the rest of the girl's file. The absence of information was rather more telling than what was written. Her date of birth and parents were classified, and her personal history could be summarized in a single phrase: since birth, Ayanami had lived alone in Tokyo-3. That was it. Other reports were attached: her grades were excellent in spite of a poor attendance record. She had been critically injured in an accident following the activation test of Evangelion Unit-00, her designated machine, but had recovered. The report credited her with three Angel kills and listed her highest synchronization ratio at seventy-four percent. Dillinger, unusually, had no special comments to offer on the First Child.

Asuka Langley Sohryu was Ayanami's polar opposite. With striking blue eyes and fiery hair, her confident grin stood out in marked contrast to her coworker's apparent passivity. Her personal record was no less dynamic. Descended from German, American, and Japanese heritage, she had been moved from place to place and home to home during much of her early life. Her parents had divorced when she was just a small child. Shortly thereafter her mother suffered severe psychological damage during an activation test of Evangelion Unit-02. Kyoko Zeppelin Sohryu's subsequent suicide coincided with her four-year-old daughter's selection as the Second Child. Asuka had thrown her life into her education as an EVA pilot, achieving an eighty-seven percent sync ratio and earning her college degree by the time that she was thirteen. Asuka had lived as a "ward of NERV" up until earlier in the year, when Major Misato Katsuragi had become her legal guardian. She was credited with four Angel kills, one achieved singlehandedly.

Dillinger's Post-It note read _I'm not sure how you'll get along with Asuka. I only met her once, when she was still living in Germany last year. As you can see by her record, she's an extremely talented individual. Unfortunately, she knows it… and unless she's mellowed in the past year, she won't hesitate to remind you of it at every opportunity._ A second note added _The Second Child has been on medical leave for several weeks now, presumably due to work-related injuries. Paying her a visit may be a good opening gesture._ Jason sighed, simultaneously exasperated and relieved to have the advice.

Shinji Ikari's appearance was unremarkable. He didn't smile at the camera… but his gaze wasn't blank, like Ayanami's, or tired, like that of NERV's higher-ranking personnel. He looked nervous, like he was afraid of offending someone.

The train of thought made Jason laugh, and he thought of his own all-too-recent worries. _Do I look like that all the time?_ he wondered.

Following his mother's death through "classified" means, Shinji's father the Commander sent him to live with an uncle in the countryside. There he lived an utterly normal life for eleven years before being abruptly recalled a year ago to pilot Evangelion Unit-01. Despite having read it already, Jason felt his jaw drop as he scanned the Third Child's combat record. Seven solo kills, three assists, and a maximum sync ratio of… _It's classified,_ he reminded himself. _Why would they hide this guy's…_

Jason flipped back to the photograph, then read the record again. Was this the right file? He found it difficult to reconcile the timid-looking face with the list of battlefield credits before him… or with the pilot that had defended him from a storm of missiles on the surface. _This_ was the boy they'd hailed as "the single best thing to happen to NERV and humanity?" He looked like… like…

He stopped. Shinji Ikari looked like the kind of kid that got stuffed into trashcans by his classmates back in America. Not like the invincible warrior people were talking about.

In his musings, Jason had almost missed Dillinger's latest note. _Surprised? It's all true, you know. This guy jumped into an EVA _cold_ and took out an Angel all by himself. No prior experience whatsoever. I'm afraid I've never met him… but he looks like a nice kid. I bet he's got his hands full living with Major Katsuragi and the Second Child, though. _

It was just one more person for Jason to meet, he supposed… as soon as somebody actually came down here to meet him. He checked his watch. Five in the afternoon, local time.

There were only two sheets left, neither of which held much information of interest. Fourth Child Touji Suzuhara was a typical jock, by the look of his school report: merely average academic grades, but high marks across the board in athletics – particularly basketball. His mother had died of breast cancer when he was eight; his father worked as a technician in one of NERV's mechanical divisions. His only surviving relative was a younger sister, Mari. Approximately two and a half months previous, Touji had been placed on indefinite medical leave due to injuries sustained during battle with an Angel. Jason stared at that last line for a long time before moving on to the final sheet.

At first Jason had thought that the form was blank apart from the name: Kaoru Nagisa. But no – each field bore one word. _Classified._ Age, family, personal history, combat record… it was all hidden. Dillinger's note was terse. _This guy arrived at NERV two weeks ago. Only a day later an Angel attacked, and we haven't heard anything about him since. He may be dead._

For some reason this disturbed Jason deeply. _Dead…_ It was hardly as though the concept was a surprise to him. The Children were, in essence, soldiers; it was a soldier's duty to fight and die so that others wouldn't have to.

But this… this was too much to grasp. That somebody could die and immediately cease to be anything more than a name, his life and legacy wiped out and hidden from public view… it felt _wrong_. It wasn't right to do that to someone – to erase another human being.

"Not even a tombstone…" Jason muttered.

"I'm sorry?"

At the sound of the voice Jason instinctively straightened, slamming the folder closed and tucking it under one arm. A second later he realized he was instinctively trying to hide it and adopted a slightly more casual posture. Wondering if he'd already blown his first impression, he turned around to look at the speaker.

His heart skipped a beat as he noted that Major Misato Katsuragi looked even better in person than she did in her photograph.

"I, er… I'm sorry." He'd simply repeated her last question as a statement; he kept speaking, hoping to find a way out. "I mean… I'm sorry if I confused you." That wasn't much better. "I, uh, I was just talking to myself. You know, I do that sometimes when I'm thinking about… well, I was thinking about my family and…" This was a conversation for another time; instead of making a way out Jason was just digging himself in more deeply. "And… yeah. That's about it."

_So much for the first impression, dumbass, _Jason thought as he kicked himself. But when he finally looked up from his feet, he saw that the raven-haired woman had her hand to her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Feeling a little self-conscious, Jason looked back down at himself, wondering if there was something wrong with his appearance. _No,_ he concluded, _it's just you that she's laughing at. Unless you screwed up your Japanese somehow…_

Taking another stab at salvaging the situation, he planted his feet, saluted smartly, and said, "Sixth Child Jason Lee, reporting for duty, sir."

The woman laughed aloud at that. It was actually a nice sound, genuinely amused rather than patronizing. Nonetheless, Jason could feel his face starting to go red as Misato finally regained enough control to speak. "Sorry, sorry! You just reminded me of someone else I know. Several people, actually." Still smiling, she extended a hand. "I'm…"

Jason broke in. "Major Misato Katsuragi, Operations Director of NERV Japan, I know." The moment the words left his mouth he kicked himself again. _And don't interrupt her, you idiot! You keep trying to impress her like this, she'll be sick of you in no time._

Contrary to his fears, Misato didn't appear the least bit put out by his unintentional rudeness. "Well, well… I see you've done your homework."

"Er… yes, sir," he responded, accepting her handshake. _Wait a minute… is that right?_ "I mean, yes… ma'am?"

"Misato will do just fine, Jason." The more foolish he started to feel, Jason mused, the bigger her smile got. It was strange.

"Yes, Misato." Jason gave her hand one final shake before letting go. He found that he couldn't look away from the woman's eyes. They were open and welcoming, a very attractive part of a very attractive face… but there was something else there, around the corners. It could just have been stress, perhaps – understandable, considering the circumstances – but it could have been something more serious. The clear friendliness in her gaze could not be denied, though; she looked to be genuinely happy to meet him, and eager to be friendly. Jason found himself quickly warming up to the woman. "Ah… I wasn't waiting in the wrong place, was I?" he asked.

The Major shook her head, a touch of regret diminishing her smile somewhat. "No, you went just where I told you. I'm sorry about the wait, but it's been a hectic day in more ways than you can imagine."

"The siege?"

"Yes, primarily. EVA-01's been chasing small strike units away from the city since you arrived. The UN and JSSDF forces are holding their distance, but they're still waiting out there. I left Maya – that's the head of Project E – in control while I came down here, but I don't want to stay away for too long. If you don't mind…?" She motioned for him to follow as she began to walk. "Stay by my side. It's easy to get lost in here. I'm sorry I don't have time to give you a tour…"

"I'm usually pretty good at finding my way around," Jason said, falling in step with her. "You shouldn't have to worry about me too much."

"That's good to hear."

Jason wondered how he would keep a conversation going with her; she'd already read through his file, and he didn't know enough about her or the current situation to talk about anything. Then he remembered Dillinger's request. "Uh… Captain Dillinger asked me to say hello to you for him."

He felt relief wash over him at the smile that that brought to her face. "Mark said that? I haven't seen him in ages…"

"You two know each other, then? Outside of work, I mean?"

Misato nodded. "We went to school together. I dated him once or twice, but… nothing serious." Jason snuck a look at her face as she said this, but her eyes were clear and untroubled. "We were pretty good friends, though. The last time I saw him was just after we graduated, but that was a few years back. He sent me a letter to let me know that NERV had hired him, a few months after I got my position here. That was about it." She gave Jason a conspiratorial look. "Is he still as much of a slacker as he was in school?"

"Slacker? No… he's always very serious about his duties. Such as they are, anyway – since America doesn't have to deal with Angel attacks, his 'duties' are mostly administrative. He did most of the work in lobbying for funding from private corporations, keeping the support of President Schroeder's administration… you know? Captain Dillinger always complains about the amount of paperwork he has to deal with…" here he saw Misato nod sympathetically, "…but I haven't heard of him getting in trouble over anything, so he must get it done on time." He shrugged. "Certainly not a slacker." A thought crossed his mind and he grinned evilly. "Is this something I can hold over his head when I get back?"

Misato laughed. "I'd say yes, but then he'd probably tell you all sorts of stories about _me_. I think I'll play it safe."

"Slacker?"

If anything, her smile got even wider. "You're not much on protocol, are you?" she asked, still smiling.

"Ah… sorry. Captain Dillinger was pretty relaxed about it, just so long as it didn't interfere with duties."

"I don't mind. But Rits… Maya may have different opinions on the matter." Jason caught the slip, but wasn't sure what to make of it. _"Rits…" That must be Ritsuko Akagi. I wonder if Misato could tell me what that note meant..._ Thinking about this, he almost missed Misato's next question. "Do you know Mark pretty well?"

"Not at first. It's a bit of a long story, but…"

"We've got time." Jason took Misato at her word; the steel corridors and moving walkways all looked alike to him. She'd been right. If he'd tried to find his way through on his own, he would have been hopelessly lost in short order.

"I'll try to give you the short version, then. My mom had been a technician at NERV for a couple of years, and as part of standard procedure they ran a full battery of tests on all members of her family – which was just me, by that point. I guess that's how I ended up being tapped out as a Child. There was actually a group of candidates – they had us get together, ran more tests, did psych profiling or whatever it is they do… Anyway, we all met Captain Dillinger then. He wasn't really involved in the testing, but one day he came to our class to see what NERV had given him to work with. His words there, not mine. Kinda cold, and we didn't know he was joking at the time, so we were all a little bit afraid of him.

"Well, my mom died in a car crash at about that time, and a day or two later I found out that I'd been selected… making me a ward of NERV. It was pretty scary for me… they took me out of my house and set me up in a one-room apartment actually _on_ the base. I didn't have any friends, really, and… well, Captain Dillinger ended up becoming my friend. Always came by to check up on me, ask what I was doing, and so on. He found out that I liked video games, and from then on we'd deathmatch whenever we were both free. It surprised me at first, since he was so different from that first impression I'd had of him… but we got along really well, and it made things easier when I had to start working with him."

Emotion flashed across Misato's eyes for an instant – was it envy? – but it was gone too quickly to be sure. "Your records said you didn't stay on the base for very long, right?" she asked.

Jason shook his head. "No, after a couple of months Captain Dillinger pulled some strings and got me moved to another house, where I lived with a friend of the family. She's only a couple of years older than me, but she'd been living on her own for a while. She actually volunteered to have her place wired with surveillance stuff so that they'd let her take me." He sighed. "Well, that was it. I lived there for the rest of the year, until yesterday."

"Were you two close?" Misato inquired. "You and this girl… her name's Rachel, right?"

"Yeah," Jason answered. "Well, we weren't real close at first – friendly enough, but… anyway, once we started living together we got to know each other a little better." He smiled at the memory. "We used to argue and fight all the time at first. Originally I hadn't even _wanted_ to live with her. But I got used to it, and we warmed up to each other over time." Again there was that longing in her eyes; what was she thinking? "Anyway, I bet it's the same for you, huh? I mean, the Second and Third Children don't seem like the type to get along too well."

There was an instantaneous tightening around her eyes; his statement had hit a nerve, although Misato tried to cover it with a weak smile. "It was, you know? But… well, there's been some trouble lately, and nobody's in very good shape."

"What do you mean?" Jason asked, curious. "Or is this… classified?"

"It's not exactly pleasant. You'll find out the details soon. After all, this is what you're getting into; you may as well be prepared."

Jason thought of the Fifth Child's blank record, and a chill ran down his spine.

( >)

The orange rays of the sun lit the side of the brick structure, their color deepening as the day waned. The light etched strange, vaguely disturbing shadows in the crevices between the bricks, and outlined the raised letters in the building's sign: _A Thousand Paths: Gnostic Congregation._ Immediately beneath them, in much smaller characters, was the address: _254_.

Kaoru felt the corner of his mouth curl up slightly. It was… an interesting place for his Fallen adversary to meet him. Perhaps it was intended to throw him off-balance. Certainly, some of his angelic brethren would never have deigned to enter a place such as this. The angel Tabris, on the other hand, had no such reservations; indeed, he found the ideas practiced within to be intriguing, even refreshing. They were, after all, another extension of free will.

Briefly he wondered if it was wise to simply respond to the invitation as requested. It was obviously a trap; his assailant had set the meeting place in ground that he controlled, and had had all the time in the world to prepare defenses. On the other hand… it was almost _too_ obvious to be a trap. If the enemy was planning to kill him… well, there'd been ample opportunity while he was being treated. For all her spunk, Kaoru doubted that the doctor would have posed much difficulty. Even if the attacker had been worried about civilian casualties – a strange idea, but Kaoru was not prepared to dismiss it when dealing with the Fallen – he had clearly known where Kaoru was. It would have been a simple manner to ambush him en route.

No. His Fallen opponent had led him to this place intentionally… and he was willing to gamble that the intention hadn't been treacherous.

Not _too _treacherous, at least. Before, Kaoru had been caught off his guard. If he remained on his toes this time, however… something could be gained from this.

Kaoru fingered the knife in his pocket, belatedly wondering if he should have looked for a better weapon. It was too late for that now. With steady hands he grasped the simple wooden doors and pushed them inward.

Instead of pews, the Gnostic church was equipped with ordinary metal folding chairs, a practical choice, able to be easily rearranged when necessary. At the moment they were set up in a circle: a formation intended to promote open conversation between people on an equal footing, with no one participant elevated above the others. The man who had attacked Kaoru in the grocery store reclined in one of the seats, holding a position that must have been extremely uncomfortable, although he showed no sign of it. He grinned as Kaoru stepped into the circle.

"You're late."

Kaoru smiled carefully, doing his best to affect an attitude of pained humor. "It's not easy to make good time with a hole in your stomach."

"Excuses," the other snorted, hopping to his feet. Kaoru took a reflexive step back, but the man didn't make any threatening moves; he merely folded his hands behind him and looked at the angel, head tilted slightly to one side. "I've got to admit," he said, "it was a major surprise to bump into you here."

Kaoru kept up his poker face, but beneath the surface his mind was working overtime. The man who had attacked him had been chaotic, animal-like in his movements… this man, the one that he faced now… seemed normal, articulate in his speech and graceful when he stepped out of the circle and began to walk around it. What was going on?

Keeping the conversation moving along methodically, like a game of chess, he spoke. "There had been… _rumors_ that one of you would be showing up."

"One of us." The other man laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You honestly can't recognize me, can you? I mean, back in that store you didn't even act like there was anything weird. Right up until I stabbed you, at least."

"You are one of the Fallen," Kaoru replied simply.

The man rolled his eyes. "You just figured that out, genius? I'm disappointed. I'd have thought you would have remembered, after all we've been through… Tabris."

Kaoru knew that the enemy had identified him, of course, but in his current form his own perceptions of others were limited. "Enlighten me," he requested, smiling.

"I'm of half a mind not to, just to spite you… but this just got a bit more interesting." The man thought for a moment, then continued. "We met once, on the battlefield. It was during one of the less interesting parts of the wars, which is why I remembered… But I saw you from a distance, at first. Your behavior attracted me. Saraquel commanded you at the time, and you were one of his more effective captains… but your own underlings had trouble serving you. You saw nothing wrong with significantly… _revising_ your orders upon reaching the field if you found it necessary.

"I saw you, then, and I saw the chance to make a great statement. I strode towards you across the field, the banner of Hell above me, and demanded that you step forward. None of your flunkies knew what to make of it when you came out and met me without getting permission from up top. I wanted so bad to laugh at them… but that wouldn't have made the right impression on you, eh?"

"Azazel…" Kaoru breathed, comprehension coming as the other spoke.

"The same. And I made you an offer. Do you remember?"

"I do," Kaoru said truthfully. "I considered it…"

"…and refused," Azazel finished. "It doesn't matter. The offer still stands…" Kaoru was already shaking his head at this, "…but that's not what I'm here for."

"You want to interfere with what's happening here."

Azazel raised a finger and waggled it chidingly at the angel. "Oh, no. I already _have_ interfered."

Kaoru stared. "You attacked me. Was that your plan? To eliminate me somehow? Or…"

Azazel laughed as though amused by a child's prattle. "Oh, you're thinking on far too small a scale. Look beyond your own little sphere for a minute, will you? Give me some credit."

Kaoru racked his brain for possible explanations, but came up with only one: "The attack today…"

The only response was ironic applause. "Bingo. Much as I hate to brag…" Here Kaoru raised an eyebrow, and Azazel laughed. "Alright. I love to brag. But still, I think I'm not demanding too much glory when I say that _I_ saved Tokyo-3 today."

"Saved…?" Kaoru felt a faint twinge of anger, but silenced it at once. "You _stopped_ the attack?"

"Your friend Shinji must have fought well, but I can't really deny that. Still, if the MP-EVAs hadn't been _distracted_ in mid-battle, they would have been too much for even _his_ skill."

"What did you do?"

"I taught them what it was like to _be_ somebody."

Kaoru stared without comprehension for a moment; when it came, he gave an involuntary start. "You gave them _souls?_ Whose?"

Azazel shook his head. "I gave them _a_ soul. And as for its source…" For the first time he looked troubled; at last he raised a finger and tapped it against his own chest.

"_You?_" Kaoru broke in, incredulous. "You _divided_ your own soul? Are you _insane?_"

The Fallen's eyes were serious. "I don't believe so, in spite of what many of your kind must think. No, I thought this through quite clearly. I've got to say, it worked better than I expected. You have to admit, those monsters cleared out of here real quick once they all woke up."

"What about the side effects?"

Azazel nodded. "_Very _unpleasant. It's like listening to a record with a crack in it… you've done that, haven't you?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued. "Everything sounds fine… but then you suddenly hit this distortion and it's absolutely _hideous_. Then when it clears up, you find that you're spinning your wheels, unable to move forward. It's hard to work your way around."

"When you attacked me…" Kaoru began.

"I wasn't entirely myself at the time," Azazel admitted. "Still, it was good that you survived. That way I could bring you here."

"Why?"

"It's really not that hard to understand. From the inside, at least. On the outside I'll bet it's pretty incomprehensible. Let me… let… let me put it this way." Sweat broke out on Azazel's brow; he took a deep breath before going on. "I think… think… that we can… tr… trust y..."

Kaoru stepped back in alarm as the Fallen collapsed to his knees, panting for breath. "Azazel? What's wrong?"

"Happ… happening again…" the demon gasped. "Listen… to me… you have… have to…"

He gave a shuddering cry and fell to the ground, where he lay twitching slightly at the circle's periphery. A moment later he leaped to his feet with unexpected energy. Kaoru felt his heart leap into his throat as Azazel regarded him with a distinctly predatory air.

"Have to die," he said.

"Azazel," Kaoru tried, "listen to me. We need to talk about this. I need to…"

"Angel _scum!_" Azazel roared. "Slaving bastard! Need to die now!" With that, he dropped to a crouch and lunged, his fingers hooking like claws.

It was automatic. The knife appeared in Kaoru's hand… and almost before he realized what he was doing, it was over.

Azazel staggered backwards and sank heavily into a chair, blood beginning to spread from the wound in his chest. He laughed; the sound now had a rasping quality, but the strange fire was gone from his eyes. "I guess you haven't… _completely_ lost your touch," he managed.

"Azazel…"

"Don't bother," Azazel muttered. "It happened a bit sooner than I expected, but… I knew it would come down to this sooner or later. Nothing for you to worry about." He winced. "But… damn. If I'd known it hurt this bad, I wouldn't have done it to you like that…"

"Azazel, why do this?" Kaoru asked again.

"What? Why… let you stab me?" Azazel tapped his chest again. "This… is my trump card. Come over here; even _you_ can probably… feel it."

Cautiously, Kaoru stepped forward. Azazel watched him impatiently, but made no aggressive moves. Kaoru reached out and laid a hand on his chest, just about the protruding knife…

_Kill kill kill rend and destroy revenge strength kill devour destroy…_

Kaoru tore his hand away with an effort. "You didn't…"

Azazel nodded. "Don't look so surprised, hey? It's… not like you hadn't… done that before yourself. All fifteen of you… all of you did just the same thing."

"But this," Kaoru protested, "this is just… mindless…"

"Less risk this way, right?" Azazel countered. "The core only holds the most primal and aggressive portion of my soul… but it won't be looking for Adam this way."

"But the Evangelions…"

"Should be able to handle it," Azazel finished. "And NERV will have an enemy to fight once again. It'll come together…"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"The offer still stands, remember. You want to make a difference here, right? So… so do we. So… I think you can play this… game… with us."

"What do you mean, 'game'?"

"There's going to be more, Tabris. More of us will be coming. We're going to steer humanity… towards a better way."

Kaoru shook his head violently. "They don't _need_ you to choose a path for them!"

"No? Well, I suppose that's what you're here for… you're the wild card."

"I don't understand."

"Too bad for you," Azazel grunted. With an effort he pulled the knife from his chest. He gagged slightly; blood trickled slowly from his mouth. He held the knife out to Kaoru, who reluctantly took it. "This body… will be gone… before long. You'd better get out of here…"

Kaoru opened his mouth, then shut it again. He found he didn't know what to say. Finally he turned and ran out the door, shutting it behind him.

Azazel relaxed slightly as he left, a faint smile playing across his mouth. "It's good to be fighting the good fight again," he rasped. "Things are getting interesting. But now we'll see if this… _Shinji…_ can hold his own."

Author's Notes

It's been an ungodly long time, and I really don't know if anybody's even going to pay attention to this… but you know something? I find that it doesn't bother me that much.

In any case, here's chapter two (shudder) of Divine Intervention. Some more events, a little more miscommunicated emotion, a new Child (the horror) and hopefully enough promise to keep people waiting for the next installment.

As an aside… I actually named the character Jason Lee without even being aware of the actor of the same name. Shortly thereafter, I "discovered" the real person. God DAMN, but that's embarrassing… Anyway, I'll probably be leaving his name the way it is, nonetheless.

C&C are appreciated. Akodo Tim did a preread on part of this chapter a LONG time ago. That part hasn't changed much since then…

Until next time…


End file.
